


Redemption

by iheartloki



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: 5x09 Divergence, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Basically fixing D&D's HUGE mistakes and their fuck up, Battle Sequences, Battle of the Bastards Divergence, Blackfish lives, Blood, Deaged Stannis, Drama, Eventual Smut, Explicit Language, F/M, Fix-It, Mentions of Rape, Might get steamy, Older Man/Younger Woman, Past Rape/Non-con, R Plus L Equals J, Ramsay is His Own Warning, Ramsay's Dogs are DEFINETLY their own warning, Ramsay's fault, Romance, Sansa is 18, Sansa is pregnant, Shameless Smut, Shireen didn't have to die so she lives, Slow Burn/Courtship, Stannis gets confidence, Stannis is 34-actual age and looks, The Old God's return Stannis' soul, Violence, it's a Slow Burn/Courtship between Stannis and Sansa because our girl was hurt in the worst way, slight slow burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-13
Updated: 2020-04-03
Packaged: 2020-05-02 02:33:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 34,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19190173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iheartloki/pseuds/iheartloki
Summary: AU: Canon Divergence, Fix-it!"Stannis finally sees the lengths both Melisandre and Selyse will go to ensure him a victory. But he can't risk it. Not at the expense of his daughter and heir. But during the course of trying to take back Winterfell, Stannis drawn to the God's Wood. The Old God's have deem him worthy of a second chance.It's a chance that Stannis will not take for granted again and in the process, rescues his future wife."





	1. Prologue: Stopping Tragedy

**Author's Note:**

> This story was inspired by Doubletaurus story: "Our is the Winter"! I highly recommend reading it. It's absolutely the awesome Stannis/Sansa story on here so far. 
> 
> So this is a fix-it story. After Season 8, I just had to do something so here it is. 
> 
> Let the show begin!

Whoever said being a King was easy, needed to be hung from the nearest tree!

The war tent was surprisingly warm, despite the cold winter air that lay just outside his tent flap.

 _'Winter is Coming!'_ Strange how House Stark's words rang with truth. Winter was coming. And if he and his men didn't find some way to either make it back to Castle Black or find a safe haven to hold up until the first storm past, then he could risk losing the men that had survived the Battle of Blackwater. What little food they had, had all been destroyed along with their equipment by the Bolton's.

Stannis Baratheon was many things but he knew they wouldn't be able to hold up where they were for much longer.

Food rations had dwindled down to nothing, morale was almost none existent!

“Morale!” He scoffed to himself at the sheer thought.

How do you expect a bunch Sellswords, who are already cutthroat and have no honor, to act honorably when confronted with a situation that they might very well starve to death?!

Not that this situation was new to Stannis. He lived for almost a year without food during the Siege of Storm's End. But in that particular scenario, he did not have a family of his own. Well if you count his baby brother. But now it wasn't his brother who would face the need and want of food, it was his daughter Shireen.

Stannis let out a frustrated sigh as scrubbed his hands over his face.

This was never something that he wanted his daughter to face but his daughter was a strong little girl for an 11-year-old.

He had tried to do right by Shireen. Feelings and emotions weren't his strong suit. Pretty words at court, false lies, and songs about glorious knights, were Renly's forte. He was a seasoned battle commander on both land and sea. He knew how to lead his men, but to understand the emotions of a little girl, that he had no experience.

But he did try. Shireen had the ability to repair the parts of his heart that he didn't realize that were broken.

When Shireen got sick with Greyscale and very nearly died, Selyse immediately drew to the conclusion that they were cursed. And it all had to do with his vile, wicked brother as Selyse called him. At the point, he wouldn't have disagreed. Robert had spoiled a lot of things for him.

It hadn't mattered that almost a year, while Robert had sat his fat ass on a throne that was not suited for him, he was trying to hold off a siege from the Tyrell's- steadfast supporters of the Targaryens, on their ancestral home Storm's End.

A home that had been in their family for almost 300 years! A home that survived every storm that besieged the bay and every attack from every army, in the 300 years that it had been in existence.

After he fought for their home, lasting through almost near starvation, which had dwindled a little with the help of Davos and his onions, Robert in all his infinite grace, sent Ned Stark in his hour of need toward the end siege to drive Tyrell's back to the Reach.

Not that he would hold it against Ned. He respected the man! He was brilliant tactician, the best swordsman in all of Westeros besides Ser Arthur Dayne and himself. But it was Ned's unflinching loyalty to his brother that irked him. Robert was his brother, yet _'His Brother'_ loved Ned Stark with a brother's love.

So to answer Jon Arryn's persistent cattle walling, Robert had given Stannis Storm's End because he fought for it. But the stipulation that Robert had was that he had to marry and produce an heir.

Easier said than done when half the women in Westeros alone, thought that his older brother was some sort of a sex god and the other half thought he walked on water!

When Robert betrothed him to Selyse Florent, they had never seen each other.

In a way, maybe that had been one of the many reasons why their marriage seemed to fall apart. He scoffed again! If he were really honest with himself, like he expected his men and others to honest and truthful with him, he would take into consideration that his so-called brother fucked Selyse's cousin in their marriage bed.

From that moment on, Selyse swore to him that the god's had cursed them.

He didn't put much stock in the gods. In fact, he had stopped worshipping the Seven when his parent's ship had crashed in Shipbreaker Bay.

But when Selyse miscarried three of sons, he started to think that maybe the god's had cursed them. Then Shireen was born.

Just the thought of her birth alone brought a small pleasant smile to his dour face.

His Shireen was the light of his life and the only one of her older siblings to survive being born. But too soon that too had shattered. He had a hard time after that, even when Maester Cressen found and performed the cure on his daughter, he and Selyse still believed they were cursed.

But unlike Selyse, he made it a point to try and spend as much time with their daughter as he could.

There were a lot of things in his life that wished he could take back. Being a second too late to catch Viserys Targaryen and his baby sister from escaping, allowing his older brother to humiliate him in front of the entire court and then hand him Dragonstone as his punishment.

He tried to make the most of it but his _'Loving'_ wife didn't see the value of it.

Shireen absolutely loved Dragonstone. It brought an even bigger smile to his face just thinking of her playing by the water with Davos's younger sons, under his and Davos's ever watchful eye.

When his brother died, that's when things became strange and very different.

A month before his brother Robert died, the Red Woman Melisandre of the Asshai made her way to Dragonstone under the guise of bringing souls to the Lord of Light. He thought nothing of it at the time and let her passage through.

But as he thought back on one of many disastrous mistakes he made when this whole thing started, he realized that Selyse had something to do with Melisandre being there in the first place. From the moment the Red Priestess arrived, Selyse had tried to get Shireen to meet her and his daughter let her Baratheon Fury show and refused to meet her.

His daughter would have nothing to do with the woman and she was 9 at the time.

Even though he regretted the times when Dragonstone took more presidents then his daughter, he couldn't have more proud of her for enforcing her own will and not bend to her mother's wishes. A mother, who from the time she was diagnosed with Greyscale and cured by Maester Cressen, brushed her aside.

Selyse would only have something to do with Shireen when it was beneficial for her.

Selyse's own brother, Ser Axel, would thumb his nose at her and act like she was just a speck of dust on his boots. His grin turned feral as he remembered breaking two of his Good Brother's rib with one punch for that incident.

It hadn't been the first time that he had to use his fist to protect Shireen's honor from his own family. When his younger brother Renly had dared called Shireen his _'Ugly Daughter'_ , while he was in earshot, he punched his baby brother so hard, that he cracked the other man's jaw and knocked two teeth out.

It didn't matter what Shireen looked like, she was still his daughter and heir unless he had a son, he loved her in his own way.

As he pulled out of thoughts, he stared at the painted table in front of him.

As his eyes moved across the table and stopped in front of the wooden figurine that represented House Bolton, all he could do was give the piece a blazing Storm Blue eyed glare. If he could, he would have willed the damn thing to burst into flames with his mind.

Many would say that was his Targaryen blood talking and he would agree, but Houses Bolton and Frey had sided with House Lannister and had instigated the Red Wedding. House Frey broke the guest right's while Roose Bolton stabbed his liege lord and King.

Now one of the creators of the annihilation of House Stark was now the Warden of the North!

After the storm passed, he waited for Davos so they could survey the damage done by not only the storm but if his hunch was correct, the Bolton's went through the sabotage plan while their defenses were down.

He closed his eyes and clenched his jaw tightly together.

This Northern campaign was going to be the death of him. The sound of the tent flap opening and closing drew Stannis' eyes to the door.

One look at Davos's face was enough for him to groan, walk around the painted table and threw himself into his high back, throne-like chair at the head of the table.

“Don't tell me!” He exclaimed as he held up a hand to try and prevent Davos from saying anything.

“I'm sorry Your Grace,” Davos said meekly. He knew his friend was trying to keep his men together. But these setbacks could only push you so far.

Stannis partly groaned and gave a weak growl as he stood and Davos a hard stare. “How bad is it?” He asked.

Now it was Davos's turn to groan. “Deserters, Your Grace.” He braced himself for Stannis to lash out.

But when he looked at his King and friend, Stannis' face morphed into a snarl and deep feral growl emerge from the back of his throat. He watched Stannis march over to armor chest plate laying in the corner and gave it the hardest kick he had ever seen.

Stannis had kicked the chest plate so hard, the sound reverberated off the thin tent walls.

“AHHHHHHH!” Stannis yelled!

Davos remained silent as he allowed his King right himself. He too was feeling the same frustration.

“Seven Hell's,” He snarled as he smashed his hands down on the painted table in front of him hard. “How did it happen Davos?”

“It's unclear Your Grace,” Davos said grimly. “One of our scouts said they left sometime during the night.”

“Hmm,” Stannis hummed as he crossed his arms over his muscled chest. “If we're to assume that is indeed what happened, then they would have been caught in the storm.” He began, an amused grin stretched his face as he turned towards his Hand and friend.

Davos's eyes widened when he saw an amused glint enter his King's blue eyes. That was a look he hadn't seen for a while. A look that had been almost vacant with the Red Priestess always at his side.

“What has your wheels turnin', old friend?” Davos asked. If Stannis was thinking about what he was thinking, then they might have a plan.

“That our deserters could be stranded!” Stannis spoke with an amused lilt to his voice. “And if they're stranded. Then our men can catch them.”

There was silence in the tent for a moment before Davos burst out laughing, followed closely with Stannis' deep chuckle.

“Who would you like me to send Your Grace?” Davos tried to ask between bouts of laughter.

This caused Stannis to pause for a moment.

“Who was the scout that spotted these deserters last night?” He asked. It was rare in these cases that he would ask for Davos's counsel, but if they were going to survive the after-effects of not only the snow storm but the Bolton's sabotage, then they needed clear heads.

“Lord Grandison's son my King, Ser Aemon Grandison!” Davos was only slightly confused until he the glint in his King's eyes.

Stannis hummed for a moment as he paced the painted table. Then he turned to Davos.

“Have Ser Aemon muster a 100 good men and task him with the duty of arresting those deserters who left us in our greatest need an hour.” Stannis began. “Tell him to bring them back here because I will have need of them.”

“A need of them?” Davos exclaimed. “In what way?”

“Davos, there are times when a King must realize that are certain battles that can not be won,” Stannis sighed as he placed his hands on the table and gave his friend and closest adviser a look.

Davos read his look perfectly. “You don't think we can win against the Bolton's, do you?!” Just saying the words out loud, caused both Davos and Stannis to feel like they had been punched in the gut.

“The Bolton's to date have 10,000 men who are loyal to Roose,” Stannis explained as he pointed to the painted table. “Within those 10,000 men, you have 8,000 Calvary. We have 1,300 infantry! That leaves us 5,000 in our Calvary. Now tell me Davos, how can 6,300 go up against 10,000?” Even as he explained, Davos felt his King's pain. “We need a plan.” Stannis finished.

“I may have one your Grace, but you may not like it,” Davos said with a grim expression.

Stannis stood up ram-rod straight and without saying a word, waved his hand bidding Davos to continue.

“With the Bolton sabotage,” He paused as he glanced at Stannis' glare. “Our food stores have dwindled to almost nothing. We barely have enough food to feed ourselves let alone the 800 prisoners we already have.”

Stannis stared at his hand as Davos paused again. “I take it that you have a plan.” He asked his deep voice vibrated off the thin tent walls.

“When Ser Aemon and his men return with the 200 deserters, throw them in with the 800 and send a 1,000 men against the Bolton's!” Davos finished and braced himself against the Baratheon fury that would be aimed at him.

But all Davos was met with was silence! When he looked at his King once more, the look he saw was anything but the Baratheon Fury.

Stannis' face had morphed into amusement and determination all in one look.

His amusement was the sheer fact that Davos thought he would lash out at him for speaking his mind. If they had still been on Dragonstone then that would probably be the case.

But now he was more determined than ever. Now he had a reason to buy him some time. Now, he could be one step ahead while the Bolton's thought they had the upper hand. So he would let them! He would let them think they had the upper hand! Let them think that all hope was lost. He now had a plan, but his plan required a cost.

Though his plan was to send a 1,000 men against 10,000 of the Bolton's, this plan required him to die or least let the Bolton's think that they had killed him.

“Ser Davos,” Stannis began as he glanced at the painted table.

“Mi'lord,” Davos answered. He wouldn't admit out loud for fear of being put in the stocks for a few hours, but Stannis' almost giddy expression was something to see after 4 months of him being silent and recluse.

When his head shot up again and gave Davos an amused expression, Davos didn't know what to expect.

“Are there any men in both the 800 prisoners or the 200 deserters, that are my height and look remotely like me?” Stannis asked as he paced in front of the table.

Davos nodded his. “Yes your Grace. There is one.” His confused expression amused Stannis even more.

“Have him brought here and send in my squire Devan.” Stannis began to issue orders. “I will have need of him and you.”

“It will be done, Your Grace.” Davos finished with a bow as he exited his friend's tent, more confused than ever.

Whatever Stannis had planned, he would find out soon enough.

  
~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~

  
A couple of hours later, Stannis' war tent was full of hustle and bustle.

Young 14-year-old, Devan Seaworth, traveled in and out of the tent fetching anything that his father and Uncle/King needed as his Uncle Stannis asked him to help him dress a prisoner who could be his twin.

Being a squire, he couldn't say no. So he fetched everything they asked for.

He even got praise from both his father and Godfather when offered an old suit of armor that was completely intact. With the good news that Devan had found a full suit of armor complete with chain mail, Davos and Stannis placed a stool beside the prisoner and soon Stannis became Devan's squire, much to Davos's amusement.

Devan would bark orders to his Uncle and Stannis complied without any argument. But if Stannis made a mistake, Devan was quick to give him a cuff on the back of the head, much like he did with Devan to get him to learn.

In fact, Devan wasn't the only Seaworth boy he trained. The same lesson had been applied to Dale, Allard, Matthos, and Maric.

Just the mention of Dale and Matthos, caused Stannis' heart to constrict. From the moment all 7 of the Seaworth boys had been born, Stannis cared for each them as if they were his own. He and Selyse had tried to have sons, but everyone Selyse lost, she claimed it was his fault.

So Davos and his wife allowed Stannis to be each of their boy's Godfather.

It was a duty that he relished.

And when both Dale and Matthos had died in the Battle of Blackwater, he mourned alongside his Hand and friend.

But there had been some good news that came out of that battle, even though Davos lost his eldest and third son, his second and fourth sons survived. Allard was still the captain of his fleet and was making his way inland with his younger brother Maric.

Even though he stopped worshipping the Seven, he doubted that the lord of Light had a hand in this. No, this miracle would be put in the hands of the Old Gods.

Maric had been oarsmen aboard the Fury when the ship exploded. By some sheer fortitude on his part, Maric held his breath and swam underneath the burning wildfire in the bay. By the time Saalhordor got him aboard one of the long boats and took him to his ship, a very tired and very soaked Maric Seaworth made his way to his boat.

He had minor burns, scratches, and cuts, so Maric would make a full recovery.

He knew Davos would be happy to see his older sons.

He was brought out of his thoughts by a gentle but firm pat to his left shoulder.

“Well done Uncle,” Devan began in a teasing tone.

“Is it now.” Stannis teased as he crossed his arms over his chest. “And just how good of a job have I done my Lord?”

Devan though his answer over for a minute, turned twinkling impish blue eyes his way and looked down his nose at his Godfather in a perfect imitation of him.

“We will make a squire of you yet!” Devan teased. It had been the same line Stannis had given Devan and his older brothers.

Davos let loose a cross between a boisterous laugh and a cough. But in the end, he couldn't hold it in and Stannis joined in with a deep baritone laugh. Even going so far as to ruffle Devan's brown hair.

“What did you do to get yourself demoted my King?” An amused voice asked from the entrance of the tent.

Devan, Davos, and Stannis all turned in unison to see who would dare barged into the King's tent but also interrupt a private family moment.

“By a squire who knows his job Captain,” Stannis replied, his voice choked with emotion as he stared at his now eldest Godson. “You made good time Allard.”

Allard didn't even hesitate. He crossed the room and enveloped Stannis in a large bear hug.

After Stannis pulled back, Allard was swept up in an even giant hug by his father.

“Where is Maric?” Stannis asked as he looked around for the wayward by.

Before Allard could open his mouth to answer, a raspy voice answered for him from the tent entrance.

“Right here, Uncle!” Maric rasped. Stannis' head swiveled.

Maric Seaworth was a lucky lad. The Old Gods or the Seven had been on his side that fateful night during the Battle of Blackwater. And for Davos, he still had five sons instead of seven. But it could have easily been four.

Stannis didn't even hesitate. He strode the remaining steps towards Maric and all but lifted him off the ground. For Maric, this was a perfect memory of his childhood. There were times he could remember Stannis doing the same thing to his three older brothers. If there was one thing he could wish, he wished he could freeze this moment.

The only time in his 36 years he was this emotional was when Selyse gave birth to three stillborn sons or when he been told by Maester Cressen that Shireen had Grey Scale and could possibly die.

“Did you have any problems, Allard?” Stannis asked his now Captain of the Royal Fleet, all the while keeping Maric closely glued to his side.

“None Uncle,” Allard reassured him. “The main part of your army are all assembled and awaiting your instructions.”   

Stannis nodded his greying head. He looked far from a man who was supposed to be 36 years old.

“Your mother is going be happy to know that at least two of her babies survived the Blackwater battle,” Davos said, trying to keep the emotion out of his voice.

“Would you like to be the one to face mother's wooden spoon, Father?” Allard teased.

Both Davos and Stannis shared a look and then chuckled. Davos's wife was a force to be reckoned with when her temper was riled.

Maric immediately raised his hand. “I for one would like to avoid it altogether!” He said as if it were a serious thing.

Their Father and Godfather laughed even more at Maric's antics because it was well known that Lady Seaworth had her wooden target. Many times Stannis would visit Cape Wrath only to find Davos's wife chasing Maric around the keep with a wooden spoon in hand for something he had done.

“Too many experiences lad?” Stannis teasingly as he gently ruffled Maric's hair.

Allard and Maric rolled their eyes. It never really mattered how old the Seaworth boys were, in their Father and Godfather's eyes they were still boys.

“Whose this bright strapping hulk of humanity?” Maric rasped as he made his way over, along with Allard, to the prisoner in the center of the tent.

“He's part of a plan your father and I have come up with,” Stannis explained as he made his way over to his painted table. He leaned back against facing his God-sons as he crossed his long legs over each other and crossed his muscular arms.

Allard and Maric shared a look first with their father and then Godfather. “What plan?!” They exclaimed in unison.

There was a pause as Stannis and Davos shared a look of their own. After silently communicating for a minute, all Stannis had to do was wave a finger at his Godsons and point to the map painted on the table.

For a good 15 minutes, Stannis and Davos told both Allard and Maric their plan for the Bolton's.

 _“Stop.”_ A voice proclaimed from just outside the tent flap. The sound drew Devan from his post at Stannis' side.

“Don't wander off to far Devan,” Davos told his younger son. “We'll still need you in here when we're finished with your brothers.”

“Yes, Father,” Devan said as he stepped outside the tent.

 _“Mother, please stop!”_ The voice exclaimed again. _“You don't need to do this!”_

The sound of a desperate voice pleading for their life drew Devan to a row of tents not 5 feet from his Godfather/Lord.

 _“We all must do things for the greater good Darling.”_ The older female said in a whimsical voice. _“Being chosen for the Lord of Light is a high honor.”_

A younger quickly fired back. _“The Lord of Light is not our God mother, and one I never asked to worship.”_

 _“My Lord asks for a sacrifice of King's blood. You will be honored in the highest for your sacrifice.”_ Another female said.

That accent! He knew that voice well! Lady Melisandre of Asshai or the Red Woman as most called her. A bewitching woman! The Red Lady had bewitched his brother, seduced him to her religion.

Devan's thoughts began to roll. If the Red Woman was present in of the tents, then that would mean the other woman would be Queen Selyse. She had turned to the religion of the Lord of Light after she lost her 3 sons. And if Queen Selyse was there, then they were talking to his friend/cousin Princess Shireen.

 _'But what did the sacrifice of King's Blood, mean?'_ Devan thought as he furrowed his brows in confusion.

 _“Have strength daughter, for the Lord of Light will protect you.”_ Queen Selyse said.

 _“When has your so-called Lord of Light ever protected us!”_ Shireen exclaimed, sheer panic set in her voice.

 _“You will see when you enter the Lord of Light's embrace child.”_ Lady Melisandre said calmly. _“Ser Axel you know what you must do.”_

That's when Devan heard the sounds of struggling. He made his way around the corner and came upon a shocking sight.

There suspended in between Ser Axel and Ser Lyonel's hold, was Shireen. He watched in utter disbelieve as Shireen's Uncle and the guard started to drag her from the tents towards the center of camp.

“Devan,” Shireen struggled as looked and pleaded to her Friend/Cousin. “Help me please!”

“Shireen!” Devan exclaimed as he started to dart forward to help the young girl.

Shireen had been as close as a baby sister that he was going to get and he admired their friendship.

But before Devan could even reach for Shireen's outstretched hand, he was met with a strong right hand to the side of his face causing his lip to split open.

Devan ignored the pain and tried to stand from his prone position on the ground. But the result happened again. This time by a boot of Ser Lyonel.

“Don't even try it, boy!” The older knight all but growled as he pointed a gauntlet finger at him.

“ **NO**!” Shireen yelled as she struggled with more vigor to get to her fallen cousin.

With a force that almost pulled Shireen's shoulder out her socket, Ser Axel tried to keep his niece to heel. “Shut up girl. It's better this way.” He all but growled.

Ser Lyonel sparred the boy on the ground one last glare as helped Ser Axel drag his niece away.

“No, No, **NOO**!” Shireen screamed as she struggled in vain. “ **NO** , **DEVAN**.”

“ **SHIREEN**!” He yelled in return.

He stood on shaky legs as he watched as Shireen drifted from sight.

“ **SHIREEN**!” He yelled again. But it was no use. Her Uncle, her mother, and the Red Woman became blimps in the distance.

Trying to desperately to shake the cobwebs out of his head from Ser Lyonel's hit, he shakily started to run back towards the Kings tent. If anyone could help Shireen, it was his Uncle.

  
~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~

  
The sounds of a skirmish drifted into the quietness of the tent as Davos, Stannis, Allard, and Maric continued to work to get Stannis' look-alike ready for battle.

Stannis looked up at the sounds of yelling and then looked around.

“As Devan returned yet Davos?” He questioned his friend and hand. It was not like his Squire and Godson to be lacking in his duties.

Davos too was curious as to why his younger son had yet to return. “No, you Grace.” As he too, searched.

In what seemed like an eternity, they a voice coming from outside.

“ **UNCLE**!” The voice yelled.

At that moment, the three men's heads shot up at the voice.

“That sounds like Devan,” Allard said concerned.

They have to wait very long as the young man in question, all but staggered into the tent.

The 4 men rushed to his side as Devan grabbed a hold of Stannis jerkin.

When Stannis got a good look at Devan's face, he ground his teeth together and clutched his jaw to keep himself from lashing out in anger.

“Who did this to you Devan?” He all but growled, trying to remain calm even though every fiber of his body was radiating anger and fury.

Devan took a couple of deep breaths before he looked up into Stannis' blue eyes. “You must stop them, My Lord!” Devan all but begged.

“Who must he stop son?” Davos asked gently. He all but broke when he saw tears form in his younger son's blue eyes.

“T-the Q-queen, The Red Woman, Ser Axel, and Ser L-Lyonel!” Deven stumbled out.

“What about them son?” Davos demanded, “Take your time Devan.”

Devan took another deep breath. “Sacrifice!” Was Devan said as he struggled to get a breath in his lungs.

“Who?” Stannis growled.

There was a pause for a minute before Devan looked Stannis again.

“Shireen!” Was all he said before he collapsed from exhaustion.

In perfect unison, both Stannis and Davos jumped to their feet.

“Allard come with me and your father. I may have need of your sword.” Stannis began as issued orders. He then turned to Maric. “Maric I'm trusting your brother's care in your hands. He's to be guarded at all times.”

“Yes, Uncle,” Maric said as took his place at Devan's side.

Without saying a word, he turned to Davos and shared a nod. They worked so well over the years, that they never really needed any words to communicate.

Allard could only shake his head in awe.

With that, the three men all but sprinted out of the tent, picking up men along the way as they made their way towards the center of camp. Stannis had no idea what he would be walking into or if his daughter was still alive.

 _“.. the night is dark and full of terrors.”_ Lady Melisandre began with her prayer.

“This isn't right!” Shireen exclaimed as she struggled.

“Daughter, please understand that this is a great honor,” Selyse begged her daughter to see reason.

As Shireen continued to struggle, she sent her mother a heated glare that only 11-year-old could.

“Honor for who mother?” Shireen growled. “Father or your so-called god?!”

“The Lord of Light will give your father strength for his battle girl.” The stoic look that Lady Melisandre shot her caused Shireen to shiver, but Shireen noticed the Red Woman's blood red ruby glow.

Shireen struggled with even more vigor as she continued to glare at the woman who almost brought her father to his knees.

“But in order for your father to win his battle, the Lord of Light demands the sacrifice of King's Blood.” Melisandre finished, hoping to turn the girl to her side.

Shireen shook her head. “This is not a sacrifice that my father would want.” With those final words out her mouth, Shireen began to fight more.

Melisandre shook her red head. This girl's will was strong. So many men before her, who face the pyre, bend their will to her own. But Princess Shireen was a true Baratheon! She was indeed her father's daughter. The tactics that she employed on Stannis, would not necessarily work on the girl.

She sighed. Princess Shireen to face her death with her will very much intact.

“May the Lord of Light bless your soul, Princess,” Melisandre said as she turned back to the pyre.

As Shireen struggled she sent the Red Woman on last glare. “I hope your conscience is clear,” Shireen said one last time.

With those words, Shireen Baratheon was going to face her death with her head held high.

“Well said daughter!” A new spoke.

In the hands of her captures, Shireen's light brown head spun around and her blue eyes went wide with excitement.

“Father!” Shireen exclaimed in joy and relief.

Stannis Baratheon was sigh to behold. He strode towards the pyre, every bit the King he was. At 6'5”, Stannis was a man that was tall and imposing. And his men looked up to him not the other way around

As he made his way toward the pyre that both Selyse and Melisandre had erected, every man in his army knelt before him as a sign of respect. It had taken time, but he had earned the respect from his men. Especially when they heard him yell from the battlefield that he wanted to stay with them, even as they were dragging him to safety.

When Stannis came to a stop, he could only glare at his wife and Melisandre.

If he weren't a decent man, he would call the woman who stood in front of him, defiant, a seductress and a cheap whore!

She had used her womanhood to seduce him and make him a fool. She stripped him of his honor and dignity. She reduced him to the shell of a man that stood before her now. The man who once stood head and shoulders above his man, tall, broad-shouldered, receding black hair and strong. Now he felt old. Exhausted half the time. And he wasn't going to be the one to tell Davos that he couldn't keep up with a man who had no fingertips on his right hand.

“My Lord, R'hllor has spoken. Your reign needs a sacrifice.” Selyse spoke in her half-mad/half-crazed voice. Stannis rolled his eyes at the woman in front of him.

“He demands a sacrifice,” Stannis taunted and then stood on the platform and addressed his men. “Have we become half-crazed from the lack of food that we would think the sacrifice of a mere girl, your Princess, and my daughter, will bring the food down from the Lord of Light?!”

That's when the mummers began in the crowd that surrounded the pyre.

“The Red God is wise in all things Your Grace,” Melisandre's accented voice began. She began to put her seduction into play. Maybe at one time, her coy seduction would have worked, which it did, but not now! Now he was wise to her act. “The sacrifice of King's Blood is the only way to see us through this trial.”

Stannis stared at the Red Woman for what seemed like an eternity before he responded. “Do you take me for a fool, My Lady?”

In a split second, he cut his eyes to Davos. His Hand was enjoying this. He was relishing it! It was the first time either man saw Melisandre stand there in complete shock.

“My King, you must listen to reason.” Selyse began to posture to him. He hated posturing! If a man or woman couldn't speak true, then what was the point of talking.

“Cease your babble woman.” Stannis all but snapped. With those words out of his mouth. He gave the nod to Davos.

Davos was all but too glad to put Ser Axel and Ser Lyonel in their place. He reached over and grabbed Shireen from her Uncle's death grip and gently placed the 11-year-old in Lord Selwyn of Tarth's arms, who joined Stannis' force to stop this farce.

When Davos was sure the Shireen was out the line of fire, he struck. Stannis watched his friend move as a man possessed.

And he had every reason to be. These two son bitches were responsible for what happened to his young son, Devan! He didn't know which one struck the blows on his son but he would have his pound of flesh.

“Stop this!” Selyse all but screamed in her half-crazed voice. “Stannis you must stop this.”

Stannis thought for a moment. “I should my Lady, but did you and your cohorts stop when Shireen begged you to? When Devan tried to help his cousin/friend?”

It was in the moment that Selyse had the good sense to bow her head.

“Lord Davos, enough!” He spoke in a firm voice. He knew Davos would be reluctant to stop but these men needed the King's justice, not vengeance.

“My Lord,” Melisandre began and was startled when Stannis spun towards her, his Storm blue eyes flashing like pools of blue fire with a hidden fire buried deep in him just waiting to come to the surface. “You must know that the sacrifice of King's Blood is the only way to lift the storm and the siege upon us.”

“At the expense of my daughter? My Heir?” Stannis asked his voice almost raw.

Melisandre nodded solemnly. “Such sacrifice is what makes you a True King.” She spoke in a saged voice.

“Or it would make me a murderer, a kinslayer!” He all but growled. “And of all, that would still not bring my daughter back.”

Melisandre remained blessedly silent after that. He thanked the Old God's for that.

Stannis began to pace the pyre as he thought over her words.

“If we were to perform this sacrifice,” Before he continued, he shot Davos a stern look as he opened his mouth to protest. “And that is a big IF, how sure are you that this will work?”

He wanted to hear from this Red Whore's own lips that she was certain in her belief that killing his heir would bring him victory.

Melisandre lifted her head and stared at Stannis. “I have seen it, Your Grace.”

Stannis stared back at the woman and nodded his head. Davos sighed and shook his head. There was a chance that he could lose Shireen because Stannis would not set the Red Bitch aside.

There was a long pause before Stannis spoke again.

“Then your Lord of Light has to pick someone else, My Lady.” His voice firm as he set his jaw in a firm line. “Shireen will live this day.”

With that he turned to his men. “The worshipping and burning in the name of R'hllor stop now!” His tone meant law. All of sudden, Selyse rushed the platform with a loud scream, her fists flying into his chest.

“You gutless bastard!” Selyse screamed. “Why did I ever marry a spineless coward like you!”

Stannis ground his teeth together. “Is it spineless of me to not want to lose my daughter?! How can you stand there in front of me and condone the burning of an innocent child?” He growled at her.

“Your hands are far from clean in this My King!” Selyse all but hissed. “Before we set sail on this campaign to take back the Iron Throne, you burned more on Dragonstone because Lady Melisandre deemed it worthy.”

“My hands were tied. I know I'm far from innocent in this, but I wasn't one who became a religious fanatic.” Stannis growled through clutched teeth.

Selyse frantically ran her hands through her dark brown hair. “I lost three sons,” She began but Stannis interrupted her.

“They were my sons to woman or did you forget.” He said as he gave his wife a cold blue eye stare. “It's a fact that you never let me forget each and every day because you blamed me for their stillborn births as it were my fault”

“It was!” Selyse screamed. “Then Shireen.” Just hearing his estranged wife growl their daughter's name if were a plague, set his blood boiling.

“You cursed my name for that as well! You claimed it was all **ME**!” Stannis yelled. “From Shireen getting Greyscale to our boys being stillborn, I was cursed.” He took a step closer Selyse, grabbed her arms and shook her. “Or was it the fact that Robert fucked your cousin in our marriage that I'm cursed?!”

With that, Stannis all but shoved his wife into her brother and then made his way down the steps of the platform.

“From this moment on, the practice of burning in the name R'hllor or the Lord of Light is prohibited.” He said firmly. “Any man caught doing so, will be put to the sword.”

He watched as every man slowly nodded their heads in agreement. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched as Davos sighed with relief.

“My King I must warn you that you make a grave mistake if you don't sacrifice King's Blood.” Melisandre pleaded one last time. She desperately tried to get Stannis under her influence but when he turned to her, she realized that the great Stannis Baratheon was forever lost to her and the Lord of Light.

Stannis gave Melisandre a cold stare. “Your advice is noted, My Lady. But your counsel is not needed nor no longer wanted, for you are not my hand!”

With that, he turned away from her and called over Lord Arstan Selmy- Ser Barristan's great nephew.

“Your Grace?” Lord Arstan asked as he bowed.

“Lord Selmy, see to it that Lady Melisandre is placed under arrest and taken to her tent,” Stannis said firmly.

“As you command, Your Grace.” Lord Arstan replied and then turned towards the Red Woman. “My Lady!” As he spread his arm in front of her and then led her away from the pyre.

Selyse could only stare at her husband in shock. “Stannis,” She began in a deathly calm voice.

But Stannis ignored her and then moved to Ser Lyonel.

“For the final time, I want to know which one of you struck Devan Seaworth!” Stannis looked between Ser Lyonel and Ser Axel.

When both knights refused to say anything, Davos stepped forward with a furious snarl on his face as a growl emerged from his throat.

“One of you arseholes tell your king who hurt my son or I will start bashing heads!” Davos all but growled through clutched teeth.

It was then that Ser Lyonel Trant had a cocky look on his face as stared Stannis down with a smug grin.

“The little bastard should have kept his nose out of matters that were not his concern!” Ser Lyonel cockily boasted.

As if knowing what was coming, Selyse continued to gain Stannis' attention.

“Stannis!” But it was the same as before, Stannis continued to ignore her.

All Stannis did was stare at Ser Lyonel a split second before he drew back his hand and Ser Lyonel was met by a strong Baratheon fist colliding with his face, knocking him out.

“Lord Tarth, please escort Ser Lyonel to the cells, he will be dealt with shortly,” Stannis said in a voice that broke no argument.

Lord Selwyn Tarth nodded his blond head and hand Shireen over to Davos. At that moment both Davos and Allard quickly surrounded the 11 years old.

The giant blond unceremoniously picked up the fallen knight and threw him over his shoulder and began to stock towards the prison cells in the camp. Before Stannis could do anything more, his estranged wife had other ideas.

“ **STANNIS**!” Selyse screamed.

Stannis slowly turned and stared at his wife. “Was there something else you wanted a woman? He had other matters to deal with than listen to Selyse rant and rave.

Before Selyse could open her mouth, her brother Axel tried to stop her.

“Think before you speak sister.” He said discreetly.

Selyse's head swiveled on a dime and Axel was forced to jump back.

“I hope you know what you caused here today.” She seethed.

Stannis shook his head. “If you mean by stopping an atrocity that you and the Priestess were about to commit by killing our daughter, then yes I do woman.” The growl that escaped his throat, gave Selyse pause.

From the growl to the hard look, in her mind, Stannis looked almost Feral. Like he was a sheer black wolf ready to pounce.

Selyse shook her head. She would not let her spineless husband deter her from her mission.

“I realize now, that our daughter had always been bred for this purpose. It's a cost that I'm willing to pay to see you succeed.” Selyse voice softened into an almost whisper.

“My Lady, I don't think you realize the severity of the situation that you find yourself in,” Stannis said calmly, all the while glaring at his wife. Diplomacy was never his strong suit. “If you go through with this and Shireen dies, I have no heir. I will take the Iron Throne eventually and I will have no heir. And you can't have any more children. Do you not see?”

Selyse paused but then shook her head. “Shireen's name will live on through story and song.” She was determined to see this through.

Stannis just stared at his wife. “I'm not willing to take that chance. Shireen lives this day and R'hllor, the Lord of Light or whoever in the goddamn hells that Red Whore answers to, can go to the Seven hells and burn!” His deep voice was steady as he gave his wife one last parting shot and then made his way over to Shireen.

His little girl wrapped her arms around his waist and he couldn't help but hug her back. Which was a first for him because he was never a man prone to sentiment. But the thought of losing this little shining light in his life, it can change a man.

There was only one thing to do and that was to get Shireen back to his tent.

As the four-some started on their way, they heard a rage-filled, anguish scream. When they turned, they saw Selyse collapse on knees on the platform.  
No matter what her brother tried to do, Axel couldn't comfort her.

In a blind panic, Selyse jumped up and started for the pyre. Her mind couldn't wrap around the fact she tried to kill her own daughter.

“Selyse stop!” Axel begged as he tried to wrap his arms around Selyse but it was too late.

Rather it was Adrenalin or anguish, it didn't matter. Selyse was determined to see this to end.

As if knowing what was coming, Stannis grabbed Shireen and pulled her face into his waist just as Selyse and Axel hit the fire. Even though Shireen couldn't see was happening, she could still hear. And the sound of her mother's and Uncle's screams would stay with her a long time to come.

Stannis, Davos, and Allard all shook their heads. It seemed that Stannis would need to find a new Queen.


	2. Chapter 1: Return of a Soul

It may have been a bit petty or a little bit cruel in some people's eyes, but the sheer fact that Stannis made Ser Lyonel wait for 2 hours before his judgment, gave Stannis some satisfaction.

The mere fact that Trant and his dead former Good-brother put his daughter through sheer and utter hell was a bonus.

He had a half mind to drag Lyonel through the camp from his Destrier, Thunder, with a rope tied around his neck. If the bastard was ripped apart from the force of the ride, then so be it. One less Trant in the world!

For 2 hours he comforted Shireen in his tent.

She cried! Of course, she cried! It was understandable that she would after the harrowing experience she had been through.

Nearly being burned to death at the stake will do that to some people!

But his daughter wasn't just some people and she proved just how kind-hearted she was.

She didn't cry for her mother. There was no love/loss there. Shireen knew exactly what her mother's feelings for her were. Hated! And a coldness that would melt the coldest part of the North!

She and her Uncle barely tolerated each other and it was all made worse when he punched the man in the side, breaking two ribs and chipped his tooth for insulting his daughter. She may have severely scarred from her Greyscale surgery as a baby, but she was still a pretty little thing.

And she was very well read. He had no doubt that if he had placed her in front of his painted table, she would come up with a brilliant strategy that would surpass even the most battle-harden of his generals. Maybe even him as well.

The person that his daughter cried for, was Devan.

The poor boy, even though he was a squire, was doing a Knight's duty and protect the innocent.

That one thought gave him pause. A Knight's Duty!

Or a Lord's Duty! It was the responsibility of the liege Lord to look after the people that served under him.

But what did he do, the minute Melisandre showed up at Dragonstone, he took her religion as his own and began burning prisoners or people he thought were traitors all for R'hllor. All because he wanted the power and the throne.

Melisandre seduced him! Made him think that he would have the throne.

She even played on the fact that he desperately wanted a son.

When they went to parlay with Renly and Catelyn Stark, Melisandre had swelled to almost 9 months. He was hoping against hope that she would give him the son that craved and longed for. But when she came back to Dragonstone with Davos, her body was back to its original shape and no baby, he began to curse even R'hllor.

He was doomed to go into his reign when he finally took the Iron Throne with no male heir, except for Shireen.

Curse! That word seemed to make itself known lately.

He watched Shireen sit and keep watch over Devan. He sighed! The Old God's had watched over his daughter.

There were times when he looked at his daughter, that he wanted to collapse onto his knees and repent for not being there enough for her when she was younger. Apologize for what he allowed her mother to do.

He should have put his foot down when Selyse locked Shireen in a separate tower from the rest of the family while on Dragonstone but he didn't. In a way, he was just as bad as Selyse.

Then there was his moment of weakness with Melisandre.

The sooner that woman was out of his sight and presents, the better.

Stannis had always been a man of honor, believed in chivalry, the role of a true knight! But in the span of 2 whole hours, all of that, his moral code, his role as a sworn Lord, his vows as a Knight, and his duty as the True Born King of Westeros, nearly all went up in smoke.

In his anger, he almost wanted to strangle Melisandre.

From the very moment that woman stepped into his life, he knew he was ruined.

She seduced him to forget his vows to Selyse with the promise of the throne and a son on her red lips.

At that moment his rebelling cock sprang to life.

Stannis clutched his teeth and willed the devilish part of his anatomy down.

It was because he couldn't control himself around the Red Whore that he was in this predicament in the first place.

Because of her, he had no wife. But he wasn't feeling any loss for her on his part. They had a loveless marriage from the start. The only good thing that came from it was Shireen.

He wouldn't have put it past Selyse to sick Melisandre on him and seduce him in the first place.

The sound of quiet sniffling broke through the recesses of his mind.

He looked over at his bed and saw his daughter's shoulders shaking. He sighed. This whole situation was created because Selyse was obsessed with a foreign god.

“R'hllor!” He scoffed under his breath.

In his opinion, the Red God or Lord of Light was created by religious fanatics who needed a reason to justify burning innocent people, men or children so that their conscience was clear. Or to seduce unsuspecting men and women to have sex because the _'Lord of Light'_ deemed it worthy.

And the one person that his mind went too, was Melisandre of the Asshai!

If didn't think he had need of her for what was to come, if Lord Commander Snow was to be believed, then he couldn't have her exiled.

But he could turn her away from his service. It was then that his brother's voice rang through his head with that boisterous laugh of his.

_“The Seven Hells know no Fury like a woman scorned Stannis! You best remember this lesson well. Women may be good for one thing, but they're right cunts when you do them wrong.”_

Of all the _'Lesson's'_ that his _'Dear'_ older brother tried to teach him, that was the one lesson he took to heart.

He knew one thing, he needed Melisandre out of his sight. That woman had caused him nothing but trouble. And he was starting to realize that something nefarious had happened the night the Stormland soldiers told him that his brother Renly's trusted King's Guard, a Lady Brienne, stabbed his baby brother in the back.

But when he questioned Lord Selwyn about this so-called Lady Brienne, he got the shock of his life when the taller, older blond told him that Brienne was his daughter and he couldn't and wouldn't believe that his only daughter would do such a thing.

It was the one time in his life that Stannis could sympathize with the older man.

He couldn't imagine going through the same thing with Shireen. Having men or soldier accuse her of a crime she didn't commit and knowing in his heart that she was very much innocent.

Renly's death had laid heavily on his mind. He may have been his enemy for the throne, but he was still his baby brother.

And yet the question still remained; how did Renly's death turn the tied that Storm's End's bannermen joined his cause? And how did his baby brother die?

Those questions burned in his brain. But there was only one person connected to all of it. One person who fit the missing pieces of the puzzle, the missing part of the equation: Melisandre!

There was no doubt in his mind that his former _'Whore'_ , he refused to call that snake of a woman his mistress, had something to do with it. His gut told him it was probably true. But there was one person who could help him confirm it, but he had to get him alone first.

But that would have to wait. Right now his daughter needed him and for the first time since she was born, he was going to do right by her.

Now he could be able to spend more time with her now that her mother was dead.

“Shireen,” He said softly but in a gruff voice.

There were times that he wished he had been more like his brother but he had long since realized that the Gods made him the way he was. And that made him a great battle commander on both land and sea.

He was pulled from his thoughts when his daughter's sad Baratheon blue eyes spun to face him.

There was silence for a few moments. After what seemed like an eternity, he spread his arms wide with the palms of his hands facing up and waved his fingers to her.

Shireen didn't even hesitate, she leapt from her seat and ran towards him, throwing her tiny arms around his waist.

The very minute that she was in his arms, the dam burst! He held her as she began to cry. He had always drummed it into his men's heads that sentiment had no place on the battlefield.

But he soon realized that in every one of those situations, children had not been involved.

With Shireen still in arms, he knelt in front of her and pulled her tight against his body as she cried.

“It's alright Snowflake, it's alright.” Stannis began sooth her. “Devan is not finished yet. The Gods, old and new, still have need of him here.”

Shireen's light brown head rose to look at her father's stern face. “Are you sure?” She asked quietly. Now wasn't the time for courtly half-truths and pretty lies. Shireen needed the utmost truth.

“I swear it!” He said firmly. “Besides,” He gave his daughter an amused look. “I have not given your cousin leave to be lacking in his duties.”

There was paused before Shireen's giggle burst through her lips, which had the desired effect that he wanted. 

After a few minutes, Stannis picked his daughter up and carried back towards the bed where Devan was resting in and sat down in the chair that she occupied a few moments before and sat her down on her lap.

“Now is not the time for tears Snowflake,” He began as he placed a finger under her chin and raised her head so she could look at him. “There will be time enough for tears when the wars are over and we can mourn our dead. For now, we must prepare to help the Stark's take back Winterfell and also prepare for a Great War that will change Westeros forever if this supposed Night King isn't stopped.”

Shireen stared at her father for a brief moment and then began to play with the buckles on his black leather doublet.

“Is this Night King even real Father?” Shireen asked quietly.

This was one of those times where she wished she was more practical. But it was difficult when one so well read as she was. With nothing to do on Dragonstone but read, Shireen learned a great deal. And what she learned from all the books she read while on the Island, she committed all she learned to memory in case her father needed it.

Stannis became thoughtful. “I believe that there is a real possibility. But then Mance Rayder truly believed that this Night King existed. And Lord Commander Snow believed it as well.” He began. “And Jon Snow is very much like his father, so he is not one to lie.”

“You value honesty, truth, and honor! Much like Jon Snow does. He reminded me of you Father when we first met him.” Shireen spoke in a soft voice.

“And they are all good quality's to have.” He gave Shireen a gentle squeeze. “I need to ask you to do something for me Snowflake.”

He watched as his daughter rose her tiny chin, like a true Princess, and gave him a firm nod.

“I need you to channel your inner Baratheon resolve for the time being.” His gruff voice, resound in determination. “We are far from out of the woods yet, there are still enemies out there that seek to destroy me. You're not safe here,” But before he could finish, Shireen grabbed his doublet in her tiny fists.

“No, Father, no!” Shireen exclaimed. “Don't send me away! I can help. I'll learn to use a sword to fight by your side.”

Stannis gave his daughter an amused grin. “And I have no doubt that you will make an excellent Warrior Princess Snowflake but it will take to long to teach you.” He grinned deepened when he saw the little scowl on Shireen's face. “When things settle, I promise to teach you myself. I believe that you will need the skill for what is to come but I have need of you for something else.”

He watched Shireen nod again. He then pointed towards the bed and he watched as his daughter follow his finger.

“Devan cannot stay in camp right now, it's not safe for him. I need my squire healthy, so that is why when Davos takes you to Castle Black, Devan and his older Maric will go with you to help them both heal.” He gave his daughter a squeeze again. “I need you to protect Devan and watch over him on the journey.”

He knew that he was asking a lot of her after nearly dying but he knew that she would be protected and by keeping watch over Devan, she would be able to help with his healing. While she had been at Dragonstone, Shireen had studied every book and tome on healing as well as have training from Maester Cressen.

There was no way he could send Maester Pylos with them so Shireen would be the next best thing.

Shireen looked at her father again and gave him a determined look. “I will guard him with my life Father!” Her voice broke no argument.

It was then that the tent flap opened and Ser Davos stepped inside.

“We're ready for ya, Your Grace,” Davos said with a bow.

Stannis sighed and gave his daughter a quick squeeze as he stood up. “Duty calls, daughter!” His deep voice gruffly replied. His lips thinned as a determined look formed his face.

Shireen nodded as she returned to her seat and then gave him a cheeky look.

“Send him to the Seven Hell's Father!” Shireen said.

Stannis chuckled darkly thought his blue eyes sparkled with mischief. “It will be my absolute pleasure daughter.”

With that, the two men that were most important in Shireen's life, strode out of the tent, shoulder to shoulder. The King's Justice needed to be delivered!

  
~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~

  
The entire camp, from the lowest the soldier to the ever-present camp dweller gathered around to witness the deliverance of the King's Justice.

“I Stannis of House Baratheon, First of His Name, King of the Andals, True King of Westeros, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm, do hereby sentence you Ser Lyonel of House Trant, to die,” Stannis began, his voice deep and clear. “Do you have any last words?”

As Lyonel kneeled in front of the chopping block, he had the audacity to give his soon to be former King, a cocky look.

“I hope your brat remembers his beating.” He began as he shot a grin at Davos and then turned but to his King. “I'm also sorry that the scarred freak didn't meet her end.”

Stannis clutched his jaw and ground his teeth together. If he had his way, he would forgo beheading the Son of a Bitch in front of him and just beat the bastard to death, saving all this pomp and circumstance on a miserable excuse of a human being.

With a nod, Lynoel's head was forced down on the block with more force than was needed by Lord Selwyn.

After taking a deep, sated breath, Stannis unsheathed Lightbringer one last time.

This would be the last time he would see, hold or use the sword that the Red Witch had created for him on Dragonstone when she burned the statues of the Seven, the gods he had long since forgotten.

When he raised the sword, he paused and basked in the sheer satisfaction of the moment as he brought the sword down across Ser Lyonel's neck.

He released a sigh as he heard the bastard's head hit the ground with a resounding thump.

He shared a look of relief with Davos.

Stannis reached down and torn the back of the dead man's shirt and cleaned the blade before he replaced it back in its sheath, took off the sword belt and handed the sword over to Davos reverently.

“See that our mutual friend gets that.” He ordered Davos who nodded.

“It will be done, Your Grace,” Davos replied as he gripped Lightbringer.

Stannis then turned to Lord Selwyn Tarth. “If Lord Commander Snow is to be believed, then headless corpses can reanimate themselves,” He paused as both he and Lord Selwyn shared a skeptical look. “I believe that is a matter of opinion but the Lord Commander is not the type of man who would lie. Never the less we must do what must be done.” He continued as he sneered at the corpse.

“Lord Selwyn, see to it that every inch of this fucking excuse of a knight is burned!” He growled as he turned to the Lord of Earth. “I do not want this little shit to find his way back to the land of the living!”

“Yes, Your Grace.” Lord Selwyn bowed and began to prepare the body for a pyre.

With that out of the way, Stannis turned on his foot and made his way back to the tents with Davos falling in step beside him keeping up with his long stride.

“Don't you think that was a little bit overkill, Your Grace?” Davos asked as they made their way toward the tents.

Stannis cast a sideways glance at his friend and Hand before turned his blue eyes straight ahead. “Are you complaining, Lord Hand?” He asked dryly.

It was Davos's turn to shoot his friend a dry look of his own. “I will not be losing any sleep over the son bitch. After what he put my son through, the Seven Hell's can take him.” He growled out his answer. He then sighs and looked at Stannis once more. “But do you think that the followers of R'hllor will be deterred?”

That cause Stannis to pause mid-step. “Maybe, maybe not. Without their Red Woman to guide them, they might turn away from him, which would be an immense relief.” He said as he was deep in thought.

“At least Shireen will be safe,” Davos said thoughtfully.

“Yes, I can thank the Old Gods for that.” His gruff voice sounded as he scrubbed his hands over his face. His beard was looking rough around the edges. It was scruffy and roughed up. And he felt older than he actually was. “My stupidity nearly cost me everything.”

“Well, I'm glad I don't have to beat you over the head because of it.” Davos teased with a playful shove.

Stannis scoffed. “As if you get the chance.” He taunted back with a good naturally.

Davos held up Lightbringer. “I'll give this to the man who needs it but it's going to a great loss to see it go.” He shot Stannis a look and watched as his friend scowled at the offending piece of metal in his hand.

“That sword has been nothing but a curse to me ever since that Red Whore gave it to me on Dragonstone!” He growled. It was just another reminder of all that went wrong when he took her to his bed.

 _'The single-handed worst mistake I have ever made in my life!'_ He thought. From the very moment that woman showed up, his guard and judgment had been brought into question and it was mostly him doing the questioning.

Davos nodded once more and than made his towards the prison cells.

Stannis watched him go with a small sigh. Even though Lightbringer had been a good sword, it was the memories that surrounded it.

And even as he watched Davos walk away, there were no words left to be said.

He then made his way toward his tent to check on Shireen and Devan.

But as he made his way back to his tent, a fell voice on the wind caused his grey with salt pepper head to shoot up and look in the direction of the woods in between the row of tents that served as the personal quarters for his generals and himself.

 _“Stannis,”_ The voice called out to him.

Stannis was startled. He was lucky that there was no one around to say that the Future King of Westeros jumped. He spun in a circle, finding nothing there he resumed his walk towards his tent.

 _“Stannis, come here.”_ The female voice ordered him. This caused him to raise an eyebrow.

Not too many people within his vicinity had the guts and the sheer balls to order him about.

That's when he started looking harder for the mysterious voice.

 _“Follow my voice Stannis.”_ The female said as she drew him towards her.

And like a meaningless ship captain, he followed her siren call. He slowly began to follow the voice and was shocked when he was led to woods just in between the tents.

When he spotted a path that led into the wooded glen, he took it. As soon as he stepped into the woods, he got feeling that he was meant to be here and began to trudge further inside.

The moment Stannis crossed the threshold into the Godswood, no one noticed that inside Melisandre's tent, the Red Priestess clutched her stomach as sharp pains began to cascade around her stomach and then began to spread throughout her body.

“N-n-no!” Melisandre gasped out through clutched teeth.

As Stannis began to move further into woods, he looked up to notice the all too familiar blood-red leaves that spread out like a canopy from the white branches of the Weirwood tree.

For some unexplainable reason, Stannis always seemed at home in the Godswood. They were a place of refuge from Robert's constant bullying. The small Godswood at Storm's End became a second home to him and there were only two people from that lifetime who knew and they were both dead.

 _“Stannis.”_ The female's voice became louder and louder the closer he got to the Heart tree.

As he rounded the familiar trail that led to Heart Tree that stood tall in the center of the Godswood, he got the shock of is life.

There, standing in front of the Heart Tree, was the most beautiful woman he ever saw.

She stood about 5'6”, he recognized that she was slightly shorter than his 6'5” height. She was wearing a flowing gown that was a mix of light and medium blues. Her light brown hair hung lose down her back, the ends curling up ever so slightly. But it was her eyes.

Her eyes really made him stop and stare.

The sea turtle green color of her eyes seemed to sparkle with mischief the closer he got.

 _“Oh my darling boy,”_ The woman began with a smile. _“Let me get a good look at you.”_

Stannis could only stare at this woman in front of him, in complete and utter shock. “You have me at a disadvantage madam!” He hoped that the woman in front him didn't hear his voice catch.

 _“Stannis, do you not know who stands in front of you?”_ The woman said, her voice soft as silk. Which flipped a switch at a long forgotten memory.

Stannis couldn't help but snort. “I began your pardon Madam, but if I took stock at how many women asked me that question, Robert would have had a run for his money.”  He raised his eyebrow as the woman gave him an indigent snort. “Is there something funny about that?”

 _“Your inner fire was only meant to be unleashed on one person. And she too has an inner fire and wolf that has been locked up forgotten.”_ She explained with a sweet smile.

“Who are you?” He asked quietly. His mind was starting to play tricks on him! That's all it was. Just a simple mind trick.

The woman in front of him shook her head. _“My son, have you truly forgotten about me? Have you truly wiped me entirely from your memory that there is nothing left of me that draws a clue as to who I am?”_

Stannis' eyes hadn't left the woman's. But when he glanced at her eyes again, he felt like he had been punched in the gut.

When he released a gasp of air, his eyes focused back on the woman as a switch flipped in his memory.

“M-mother?!” His voice stumbled over the word. He was a seasoned General and battle commander on both land and sea, yet in a few minutes of meeting this woman in front of him, he was reduced to a child.

 _“Ah!”_ She exclaimed. _“My son has finally come back to me!”_ With that, she held out her arms as Stannis slid his arms around her and held her tight.

Lady Cassana Baratheon was reunited with her son.

~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~

 

After Davos finished delivering Lightbringer to the guarded decoy prisoner, he made his way back to Stannis' tent.

“Ser Davos,” A voice stopped him and he turned and saw Lord Selwyn coming towards him with a sword in his hand.

“Is there something I can help you with Mi'lord?” He asked. He then squared his broad shoulders as he gave Lord Selwyn his full attention.

“Yes, you can!” With that said. Selwyn handed Davos the sword in his hand. “Give this to our King, to replace Lightbringer.”

If Davos was downright shocked, he didn't show it. He nodded his head and took the sword from the other Lord's hands. Though he appreciated the jester, he just hoped that Stannis wouldn't think it was charity.

After their brief encounter, Davos made his way inside Stannis' tent and got the shock of his life to see Devan awake and Shireen helping him drink some water.

“You gave us quite the scare boy,” Davos said emotionally as he closed the gap between him and the bed his son laid on.

When he reached the bed, he pulled both Shireen and his son into a large bear hug. As he pulled back, he glanced around the room and noticed that Stannis was nowhere to be found.

“Where is your father Shireen?” He asked the princess who was more like a daughter to him.

Shireen paused with helping Devan lay back down.

“I don't know. He hasn't returned.” She said as if it were an everyday thing.

“He hasn't returned?!” Davos exclaimed. “What do you mean he hasn't returned? He said was coming to check on you.”

“He hasn't been back since he left from the execution of Ser Lyonel Trant,” Shireen said as she shrugged her shoulders. Noticing the look on Davos's face, she tried to ease his mind. “Uncle Davos, it might surprise you to know that my father always manages to find his way back.”

Davos looked at his God-daughter with a small smile. “How did you get to be so smart?” He teased as gently ruffled her light brown hair.

“I guess I am my father's daughter!” Shireen said with a teasing grin that caused Davos to laugh.

“I better go find your wayward father.” He teased, causing Shireen to giggle as he started to exit the tent again. “I leave Devan in your very capable hands, Your Highness.” With that, Davos gave Shireen a mock bow.

When he stepped outside, he glanced around the camp. Trying desperately to spot a very imposing, 6'5” King!

“Dammit, Stannis!” He exclaimed under his breath. “Where did you go?!” He muttered.

Clutching Stannis' new sword in his left hand, he made his way around the camp, searching in vain for his friend.

  
~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/

  
When Stannis pulled back from his mother's embrace, he stared at her in sheer disbelief.

“What are doing here mother?” He asked. He still couldn't believe that she was here.

 _“Well from what I've seen, I thought I only had one son that was drawn to the siren call of women! But I was wrong! Who knew that my quiet, unassuming, silent, no-nonsense second son, would allow some foreign woman who seduced him without really knowing the price he had to pay by allowing her to use her dark magic on him.”_ Cassana said with a raised eyebrow.

“A price?” Stannis looked at his mother confused. “What price do you speak of mother?! And I am not my brother!”

 _“Her price was simple my son and this where you and Robert are slightly similar,”_ She began which caused Stannis to snort in disbelief. But all too soon he was clutching the back of his head. _“You may be 38 years old, but you still toe the line with me Stannis. This is serious! Your arrogance has cost you and will cost you dearly. You paid her price when you surrendered to that Witch!”_

Stannis could only shake his confused black head. “Mother, you're speaking in riddles! Unlike Robert, I detest pretty court lies! Tell me truly! What is this price you are blubbering on about.” His mother knew something about what happened to him.

Cassana waited a moment before she trudged on. _“Your beard looks a lot more scruffy, even for you my son. And you look much older than you should.”_ Her voice took on a sad note.

He sighed. “Mother, you are stalling!”  He said with a slight grin. “My beard is scruffy because I haven't shaved in a month. And as for looking older, well that's what happens when you fight a war. Just tell me, Mother! Let us get it all out into the open.”

 _“Very well my son! The price you paid was connected to your brother,”_ Before she could even finish, Stannis interrupted her.

“Robert was already dead before the Red Woman set foot on Dragonstone. Cersei was responsible for what happened to Robert, not me.” He all but growled.

 _“Not the brother I was talking about sweetheart,”_ Cassana said in a calm voice. _“The Red Woman promised to give you a son that would bring the Lords and all the bannermen of Storm's End to your side if you surrender to her.”_

Stannis' eyes began to flicker at the memory that he brought up.

“I remember.” He said gruffly.

 _“Your son was a shadow demon that was created by your soul from your surrender to her. That was the price. Your soul, for your baby brother's life.”_ When she finished, she glanced at Stannis.

He went pale. Ghostly pale! It felt like he had been punched in the gut. He stumbled back against the Heart Tree. When his back hit the bark, he slid down until he sat directly under the sacred face. The blood-red sap stuck to the back his black cape as the sap slowly fell on his head.

“Renly!” He whispered brokenly.

 _“Stannis, sweetheart look at me,”_ Cassana began as she crouched in front of him.

But Stannis shook his head and moan brokenly. He refused to look at his mother. He was a disgrace for her to call him her son. He was a Kin slayer!

“I killed my little brother.” He brokenly exclaimed. And for the first time in all of his 38 years of life, Stannis Baratheon began to sob.

 _“Stannis, look at me!”_ Cassana said firmly.

When he lifted his head, his Baratheon blue eyes were filled with tears. He was like a child again.

 _“This is good my little Stag,”_ Cassana began as she wrapped her arms around Stannis' shoulders. _“You're not lost yet to the Red Whore! There is still time to fix and repair the damage she has done.”_

“How!?” He exclaimed. “I'm a kin slayer mama, I killed my baby brother. I'm a murderer!” He yelled between broken sobs.

 _“No, my little stag, no!”_ Cassana consoled him. _“We still have time to repair the mischief she's rot on you”_

“B-b-but h-how mama,” His was almost broken. “How do we go about fixing it?”

When his sad blue eyes met his mother's sparkling sea turtle green, he was almost scared to wonder what his mother had planned.

 _“That's why I have been sent here to my son,”_ Cassana said in an amused voice. _“The Old God's have seen the course of will happen if you don't take the throne. In order to make sure that their future doesn't come to pass, we must return your soul and your strength that was stolen from you, unwillingly.”_

Stannis took a cleansing deep breath and sat up straighter. “What must I do mother?” He began sounding like the True King that he was, which brought a larger grin to his mother's face.

 _“The process has begun,”_ Cassana explained. Stannis looked down and watched as the ground around him and the Weirwood Tree begin to glow. _“All you must do is touch the sacred face and the Old Gods will do the rest.”_

He took a deep breath and turned his large body so that he was kneeling in front of the sacred face, carved into the Heart tree.

Just as he reached for the tree with his right hand, he felt an invisible force stop him. There more he struggled to touch the Heart Tree, the more the force pulled him back.

Meanwhile back in camp, Melisandre sat in her tent and stared at the open fire harder than normal. As she stared, she rubbed her familiar blood-red ruby that was always around her neck. The harder she stared, the faster she rubbed the stone.

“They will not take him.” She muttered under her breath. “He can still be my _'Prince that was Promised'_! I've come too far for make belief stick Gods to foil my plans now!”

Cassana's eyebrows furrowed in confusion as she watched her middle son struggle with his task.

 _“All you have to do is reach my son.”_ She pleaded. _“Your soul will be restored and your strength returned. Just touch the tree.”_

Stannis grunted as he tried with all his might to break the invisible hold on his arm.

“That's proving difficult mother. Something doesn't want me to complete the old Gods will. Whatever it is, it's trying to stop me.” He growled.

That's when he heard his mother growl.

 _“That will not happen!”_ She growled once more as she rushed forward and grabbed Stannis' right arm. _“I will not allow that Witch,  to stop what the Old Gods have set in motion. The Gods will be done!”_ She yelled out in a battle cry as she shoved Stannis' hand onto the Heart tree's face.

All of a sudden, the entire Godswood erupted in a beautiful white glow the surrounded both Cassana and Stannis. For Stannis, it was like a thousand needles shot up his arm and encased his entire body. Then that's when the pain started.

“ **AHHHHHHHH!** ” He screamed. White hot pain coursed through his body like someone poured boiling oil over him. He started to sweat as if he spent the whole day in the tilt-yard of the camp.

That's when the entire became engulfed in a white glow that encased the Godswood, the light was so blinding that it forced everyone including Davos to shield their eyes and drop to the ground.

But while this was going on, no one noticed the Red Light shoot out of Melisandre's tent, or the fact she collapsed on the floor and was convalescing in pain.

“ **AHHHHHHHHH!** ” She screamed in unison with Stannis, but no one heard her.

Once Stannis stop screaming and arching in pain, he slowly sank in front of the Heart tree, all the while, his hand not letting go of the face.

As Cassana looked at her son, a full-blown grin spread across her beautiful face. Gone was the greying, salt and pepper hair that her son had when he entered the Godswood with. In his place was Stannis, with the Baratheon Black hair on both his head and in his beard, with his receding hairline still intact.  When she glanced at his body, he began to fill out more even though he and his men hadn't had a proper meal in months.

His muscles began to return to their once powerful Baratheon strength. His shoulders became broader.

When she saw that he was starting to come to, she took a glance at his eyes. Gone was the dull blue that she first saw when he came into the Godswood. In its place was the once prominent Baratheon Blue.

“M-mother!” He said weakly as he started to come around.

 _“Just take your time my son,”_ Cassana said gently as she helped him sit up.

He shook his head and then slowly turned to his mother. When he saw her sad smile, he knew without having to be told.

“You have to go now, don't you?” His voice held a hint of sadness.

Cassana gently shook her light brown curls and she helped him stand. Once he was on his feet and was able to straighten his back, she truly saw the True King of Westeros standing in front of her, tall and majestic.

 _“I will always be a part of you and around you, watching over you. Even though you can't see me._ ” She said softly. She then raised a hand and gently touched his scruffy, bearded cheek. _“Now it's time for Westeros to meet their King!”_

And with that, there was a faint glow as Cassana slowly faded from sight.

Maybe his mother was right, she will always be with him, even though he couldn't physically see her. It was time for him to fulfill his destiny on his own.

With that thought in mind, Stannis straightened his spine, held his head high and the calmly made his way towards the entrance of the Godswood. He was making his way back to start.

 _“Your Grace,”_ A voice shouted halfway through the trail.

There was the only person he knew that had a deep, Fleabottom brogue, He almost sounded Northern. Davos.

 _“Your Grace, Stannis,”_ Davos yelled again.

“Davos!” He yelled in return and sped up his long legs to cross the distance between them.

“Stannis!” Davos yelled once more.

“I'm here, old friend.” He yelled back and rounded the corner.

Davos stopped in his tracks and almost fainted in shock.

There walking towards him was the most astonishing sight that he saw in his life.

He rubbed his eyes to make sure they weren't playing tricks on him.

When he opened his eyes again, there standing in front of him, was a young looking Stannis Baratheon. He looked exactly how he looked before the Red Witch sunk her claws into him. He looked healthier! He looked 34 again.

“S-Stannis!” He stammered. He thought he was going collapse in shock when Stannis stopped in front of him and placed a gentle but firm hand on his shoulder.

“Davos,” Stannis began with a serious expression. “We have some things to discuss.”

Somehow, Davos knew this conversation was bound to happen!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow! I wasn't expecting this reaction! Thank you so much for all the comments and kudos. Here's Chapter 1- finally!
> 
> As always, I love comments and kudos


	3. Chapter 2: Truth and Misleading Attack

If there was any shock from the camp, no one showed it as Davos and Stannis walked by and went to his tent.

Davos was trying to get his nerves calmed. It wasn't just that Stannis was now young looking once again, it was the fact that he and his King would have to have a conversation that was long overdue.

A conversation, that at the time, Stannis didn't want to hear.

In his mind, he had just won a battle against his baby brother. A baby brother who was willing and able to go into a battle against Stannis, until Melisandre intervened. He still had nightmares from what he witnessed. But the minute he tried to tell Stannis, the other man brushed it away.  
Stannis wasn't ready to hear what he had to say at the time.

But now it seemed that Stannis wanted to initiate. Of course, now he had to work up his nerves.

He had assumed that this conversation would never enter the light of day, until now.

When they entered Stannis' tent, there a loud gasp.

Allard, Maric, Devan, and Shireen stood and could only stare at Stannis in pure and utter shock.

“F-father?” Shireen stammered.

Stannis sighed, he somehow knew this would happen, but he had hoped that he would ease his daughter into it. But that plan was screwed, so now he had to help her with the transition. “It's me Snowflake.” Was all he said as he kneeled on the floor of the tent with his arms spread wide.

Shireen only paused for a half a second before she rushed across the tent, and leaped into Stannis' arms.

Davos couldn't help but smile. This was a scene that he wished had happened long ago if Selyse hadn't had her way.

It was not his place to speak ill of the dead, but the former Queen was a vile, evil and spiteful woman. Any woman who would agree with any religious fanatic to burn their only child, who was only 11-years-old, was evil in his book.

But just seeing both Stannis and Shireen share a tender moment as father and daughter, did his heart good.

When Shireen pulled back, she tilted her head to the side and gave her father a curious look.

“Father, you have color back in your cheeks and face, are you feeling better?” It was a simple question from a very well-read little girl, it was a question that gave him pause.

Did he really look that bad before his little trip to the Godswood?

He made a note to bring that up with Davos when they had their conversation.

When he looked back down at his daughter, he a crooked half-grin. “I'm feeling much better my little Snow Fawn.” As he gently ran a hand through her downy, light brown hair.

“Well, I'm glad,” Shireen said with a firm nod of her head, then gave her father a cheeky grin. “For a while there I was almost tempted to order you to lay down in your bed and put your feet up.”

Davos snorted but when he saw Stannis' look, he attempted to cover it up with a very well placed cough.

“Cheeky!” He teased as tickled Shireen's stomach, causing a round of giggles from the little girl. “I am so ever glad that I'm well enough not to submit to Maester Shireen's care.”

Stannis' deep baritone laugh reverberated off the walls of the tent as Shireen started to preen at the comment.

The one thought that ran through Davos's mind at this moment, was that he wished Marya had been there to witness it, instead of being stuck at Cape Wrath. But young Stannis and Steffon were not old enough yet to travel and after what happened during the Battle of Blackwater Bay, he wasn't too sure that his loving wife would send their two youngest sons on ship North.

Not that he could blame her. He could still hear Dale and Matthos's screams.

When Stannis took a look at his friend and hand, he noticed the melancholy look on Davos's face. No doubt he was thinking of his two sons, lost in the Battle of Blackwater, a losing battle. A battle, as could admit now, he was not prepared or well equipped to win.

Just another in a long list of things that he believed Melisandre for.

“Shireen,” He began gently and the waved Allard and Maric over. “I'm going to have Allard and Maric take you and Devan over to your Uncle Davos's tent to keep you tow occupied while I have a little discussion with Uncle Davos.”

Shireen gave her father a serious look. It was a look, that Davos saw Stannis wear all the time when the situation called for it.

“Is that your ever polite way of saying that I need to be seen but not heard father?” Shireen asked seriously.

Stannis could only chuckle and shake his head. “You're too smart for your own good.” As he gently ruffled Shireen's hair.

“Well one of us needs to be a diplomat in this family, you can't be bothered because you hate the snakes of court and you detest pretty lies and half-truths!” She answered, much to her father's shock and Davos's amusement.

“Now I see who I have to come to in my reign when diplomacy is required.” Stannis teased.

“I would be happy to take the job father, but then what will your future Queen do?” It was an innocent question from a little girl who was too smart, which of course caused another wave of shock to hit Stannis.

Allard, sensing his God-father needed some reprieve from all his daughter's questions, decided that now would be a good time for him and Maric to move both Shireen and Devan to their father's tent.

“Well, I do believe Shireen, that it is time for you to read that dragon story to Devan and leave all these questions between Father and Uncle Stannis,” Allard said with a cheeky grin as gently began moving Shireen towards the tent flap as Maric went to collect Devan.

“But I'm not finished yet, Al.” Shireen protested as her older cousin maneuvered her out of the tent.

“From the look on Uncle Stannis' face sweetling, you already are.” Allard grinned at Shireen's huff. “Besides, I think you broke Uncle Stannis.”

With that, the children left to give adults privacy.

But with just Stannis and Davos, the tent was eerily silent.

Even though Stannis wanted to come right out and confront Davos outright about what happened when Renly died, he first needed a mirror.

He walked across the tent towards his morning table where he prepared himself in the morning and when he glanced up at the mirror in front of him, he got the shock of his life.

He looked young! Gone was his greying, salt and pepper hair, in its place was the traditional Baratheon Jet Black hair. He even noticed that his eyes were no longer a duller version of the Baratheon blue eyes that were a stand out in his family.

These had been two of the main reasons that he realized that Joffrey, Myrcella, and Tommen, were not Robert's children.

At the time, he knew that Cersei was a whore, the fact was made clear when she gave birth to three bastard children, but he had no clue who their father could have been. He knew in some small way that he couldn't blame Cersei for what she did, Robert had never been discreet with his dalliances, even when he was betrothed to Lyanna Stark.

He snorted at that thought. He knew how well that turned out.

When he glanced back at his reflection, he ran a hand over his beard and then reached down for his trimming scissors. It was time for it to go. He started trimming most of it off before grabbing the straight razor and soap.

He poured water into the bowl in front of, then he took off his gauntlets and his leather doublet and then returned to the mirror in just a white linen shirt that showed off his newly restored muscled arms.

His hands reached into the bowl, cupped a handful of water and splashed it right into his face. He then grabbed the soap, lathered his hands and ran his soapy fingers over his newly trimmed beard. When the entire beard was covered, he picked up his razor and began to shave in the first time in months.

As he shaved, he turned his eyes towards Davos in the mirror.

“So Davos....” He said as he continued to shave.

“Yes, Your Grace,” Davos stepped forward and cleared his throat. He knew this was coming.

Stannis paused for a minute before he continued to shave. “What really happened the night you left with Melisandre on the boat? The night my baby brother died?” He asked seriously.

Davos sighed. He knew this was going to happen.

“I thought you said this was settled when we were leaving Renly's former camp.” He hedged.

After Stannis was finished, he grabbed a towel and wiped the remaining soap from his freshly shaved face. He took one last glance in the mirror. His freshly smooth face made look how he was before he encountered the Red Witch.

When turned to Davos, he gave his friend and hand a mild look.

“Yes, but at the time, I thought I had won the battle honestly.” he firmly proclaimed. “What really happened Davos?”

He watched his friend take a minute to answer.

“If you're sure that you're prepared,” Davos began and then took a breath. “We moved to a cave that was close to Renly's camp. That woman told me to stand watch, be on my guard but to watch as greatness was being born.” Davos took another deep breath. “Nothing could have prepared me for what I saw!”

And with that, Davos proceeded to tell a very startled Stannis what he had witnessed. He explained to the startled man, how he saw the Red Witch deliver her demon son. As she was giving birth to it, he noted that the demon's face as she pushed it from her body. There was no denying it, it looked like a sheer black cloth version of Stannis.

After she was done, word had reached him that Renly had been murdered. That's when he told Stannis that he knew the Red Woman's demon child killed Stannis' baby brother.

By the time Davos was finished, Stannis had stumbled back into his high back chair and all but collapsed.

Davos took note that his friend was ghostly white, almost pale looking.

“So it's true,” Stannis' shallow voice sounded almost hollow and choked with emotion. “I truly am a Kinslayer!”

Davos stepped forward and shook his head furiously. “No, Your Grace,” But before he could finish, Stannis turned his sad and broken Baratheon Blue eyes towards.

“What do you call it Davos?!” He exclaimed as he shoved himself out of his chair and began to pace the length of his tent. “Renly is dead because of me! Because of things I couldn't control.”

“There!” Davos yelled. “That's it Mi'lord. Things you couldn't control. Melisandre seduced and used you for her own personal gain and magic. You couldn't have known that would happen.”

Stannis sighed and rubbed a hand over his freshly shaved face.

“Perhaps you're right Davos,” He agreed. Which caused Davos to finally sigh with sheer and utter relief. “Melisandre is responsible for my baby brother's death, but as her part in seducing me, I have feeling that Selyse put her up to it.”

Davos silently agreed with his friend. He wasn't going to put to voice that Selyse may have convinced Melisandre to seduce Stannis because he wasn't quite sure if part of that was Selyse and the other part was all Melisandre. She had the ability to turn good men over to her side with just one seducing look.

And that had been proven with Stannis and his son Matthos. His third eldest son died believing that R'hllor would save him.

Then Matthos died screaming by being burned to death with wildfire.

“No matter how much I want to strangle the woman, a good king must put the past where it should be and that is firmly in the past. We must move forward.” Stannis said a determined look on his face as he grabbed his leather doublet.

“That is very wise Your grace,” Davos said with a slight grin.

Stannis looked at his friend after he finished fastening the buckles with a matching grin of his own.

“Well, it was a matter of time!” He teased and then both men burst into deep baritone laughs.

When the laughter calmed between them, Davos didn't even have to be told. He walked over to where Stannis kept his old Black Baratheon armor. He handed Stannis the black chain mail and plate shirt and he pulled it over his doublet. The chest plate featured a Stag and all the plates including the chest, were detailed in black and gold. He then grabbed the matching black metal wrist guard pieces and placed them on each arm.

When that was done, Davos reached over and helped Stannis adjust his doublet underneath the chain mail shirt. Then he wandered over to Stannis' wardrobe and pulled out his friends spare black cloak. He completed the look with a pair of black leather gloves.

After he was prepared, he gave his friend and had a serious look.

“I do believe we have a duty to perform.” Stannis' face was set in a firm line as he started for the tent flap.

That's when Davos stopped him. “That sounds all well and good Your Grace, except there's just one problem,” Davos was never one to mince words.

“And that is, Lord Hand?” He asked dryly. He couldn't help but respond with anything but dry wit, his hand had that devilish twinkle of amusement in his blue eyes.

Davos had the good grace to cough discreetly. “You seem to be missing a sword, Your Grace!” His amusement knew no bounds.

But when he followed Davos's gaze towards his left hip and notice it was completely bare. His eyes shifted towards his waist and he noticed that the familiar belt wasn't there. That's when he closed his eyes and then he realized what had happened to his sword.

“Fuck!” He exclaimed, causing Davos to chuckle.

“Colorful expletive, but it puts everything into perspective.” Davos teased. But when he saw the mild glare Stannis shot his way, he coughed again.

“You gave me Lightbringer so I could strap it to your look alike. But when you went on your age of fulfillment,” He teased again but he received a firmer glare in return. “I was stopped by Lord Selwyn.”

“The Lord of the Sapphire Isle?” Stannis asked in awe.

“The very same Your grace.” Davos grinned. “He said that it was a very honorable thing for a King to give up his sword for a plan that might just stall the Bolton's long enough until we can form a more suitable plan. After I delivered Lightbringer, he stopped me and handed me this sword.”

Stannis reached out his hand for the sword and removed it from the sheath.

He marveled at how the sword was beautifully handcrafted. The weight was good and the balance was superb. This sword had better balance then Lightbringer. It was one of the many reasons why he got rid of the sword Melisandre created for him.

He still wondered how he survived the Battle of Blackwater and the Wildling battle with that sword.

Those two battles proved to him that Melisandre had no weapons experience what so ever when she gave him that mediocre sword.

The balance threw him off. At one point when he was testing it in the training yard at Dragonstone, he had swung the sword up to bring it down in a downward arch. But the balance shifted his weight so much that he nearly decapitated himself with the thing.

Even though he had thanked the Red Woman for her _'Gift'_ , in his mind he had refused to call that monstrosity a sword!

But this new sword that Lord Selwyn had Davos give him, felt somewhat right.

It had perfect balance and the weight was good. Superb even!

But it didn't feel like his sword!

A good swordsman could tell if a sword was meant for him. If it fit him perfectly! Even though Lord Selwyn's heart was in the right place.

He re-sheathed it and fastened the belt around his waist so that the sword rode low on his left hip and then he strapped his long dagger and belt, beside it. When he placed his left hand on the pommel of the sword, he gave a happy sigh.

“And everything is right in the world once again.” Stannis gave Davos a look of content.

As they moved as one towards the tent flap, Davos couldn't help but voice his concern. “All won't be right with the world Your Grace if we can't retake Winterfell and place it back where it truly belongs. And that is in the hands of the Starks.” He said seriously.

Stannis nodded his head and sighed. “That task will require more men Davos. I doubt the Houses of the North will swear fealty and bend the knee to another Southern King.” It seemed like an arduous task.

But even he could respect all that the North had been through to fight for their independence. _“The North Remembers”_! Those were words that he had heard a lot since he had come North, from either the small contingent of Houses that he had visited or the whispers that he and Davos heard in the inn's they had stayed.

Those words meant something to the people whose country he was trying to liberate from a band of traitors, cutthroats and usurpers.

The Bolton's had betrayed their liege lord and King to help House Frey dishonor the Guest Right. And that was all for Lannister gold! His spies were very thorough.

It seemed that Tywin Lannister, the Great Lion that he truly was, would do anything to win a battle or to make sure a Great was all but obliterated from existence. He would do anything to win. And he prayed upon House Frey's need for vengeance and Walder's need for gold.

But it helped Tywin even more in his opinion when House Bolton joined his cause.

And that, of course, gave Tywin a perfect opportunity to use the grudge that both House Stark and Bolton had for one another. Roose Bolton was a conniving, cheeky, vile bastard but he was also a damn good strategist in battle as well. And Tywin would use that.

Thus the Red Wedding happened! And those who were a party to it, the Old Gods were delivering their swift justice.

His spies told him that before the Great Lord Tywin Lannister could order the death of his Imp of a son Tyrion, his dwarf son killed him in the privy with a crossbow before escaping to King's Landing. No doubt Cersei was having a fit!

That thought brought an even bigger grin to his face.

Not only did the Golden-haired Whore, lose her son at his own wedding, but a week later her father was killed. Justice! For holding onto a throne that was never hers, to begin with. It was justice for letting his fool of an older brother believe that her bastards were his, to begin with.     

“Come Davos, let's put the first part of our plan into action.” Stannis gently slapped his big hand on Davos's shoulder.

With that, both exited the tent with new hope.

  
~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~

  
Both Stannis and Davos followed the small army through the treeline so as not to be seen by the Bolton's but close enough to keep the prisoners in their line of sight.

When they snuck their heads around a large tree, they got the shock of their lives.

There staring right in front of them was the entirety of the Bolton army. All 6,000 of them, and from the sigil's that Stannis and Davos gathered, comprised of House Umber, House Karstark with House Bolton completing the assemble. It was at that moment that both Stannis and Davos shared a look.

The Bolton's were cocky if they thought they could win an open battle against him.

They had 6000 at last count but to pit them up against Stannis' 6,300, would probably be a battle that he could win. But that was cockiness talking and he couldn't afford to be cocky in this situation. There could have been a slim chance that those 6,000 men could very well wipe out his 6,300. No battle was won from cockiness.

“This is suicide, your Grace!” Davos whispered.

“Mmm-hmm!” Stannis hummed in agreement. “But what choice did we have Davos. This was the only opportunity we had to see how formidable the Bolton army was and now we do.” He whispered back.

Davos nodded in agreement and then shot his friend a look. “Now that you know, what do you intend to do?'

It was a simple question that demanded a very simple answer.

“It's simple Davos, House Bolton forfeited any right to surviving this war when they sided with House Frey and House Lannister to destroy House Stark!” He said firmly as he and Davos turned their heads back to the battle and watched as the Bolton army systematically, wiped out the 1,000 men he sent in as a decoy.

With this win, Stannis and Davos knew one thing, House Bolton along with Houses Umber and Karstark, would be cocky and their guard would be down for the moment.

They slowly moved away from the scene and quietly made their way back to camp.

  
~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~

  
When they returned to camp, they had a cart pulled up that laid with straw and blankets so could lay Devan on his back. There was no chance that he would be well enough to ride the full journey to Castle Black in the saddle. But both Davos and Stannis decided to his horse to the back.

Then they began to load the cart with all of Shireen's belongings.

“Are we all set Maric?” Stannis asked his God-son as he moved to the cart once to check on Devan.

Maric nodded his head. “Almost Uncle. We're just waiting for Shireen to finish getting ready so that we can leave.” He said with an eye roll.

Stannis noticed it and gave his God-son a confused look. “Getting ready?” He turned and shared a look with Davos. “I thought she was already to go?!”

“Oh she was Uncle,” Maric replied. “But she thought since we were going on the open road and with Bolton men in the woods looking for traitors at every turn, her young Grace decided a change was in order.”

Stannis' deep chuckle at Maric's expression, caused Davos to join him at his son's expense.

Maric sighed and closed his eyes. “Marvellous! Now my own God-father and Father are laughing at me.” The whine in his gravelly voice sent the two older men in front of him in another round of laughter.

“Thank you, Shireen!” Maric yelled at his cousin as she exited the tent.

Shireen gave her cousin a cheeky grin. “Oh, it was a pleasure to help Maric. But even you know that there is logic in what I did.” She may be a child but she was very well-read. Sometimes Shireen was to smart for her own good.

Stannis couldn't hold back the look of pride in his blue eyes. When everything was settled some, he had a half a mind to give his daughter a couple of books on battle strategy. She would put some of his General's to shame.

With that thought in mind, he walked back into the tent and made his way towards his desk. He pulled out the large drawer on the left-hand side. He then reached in and pulled out a couple of strategy books that he knew Shireen would like.

With that finished, he made his way back outside and over to his daughter.

“Shireen, I thought you could use these,” he said as he handed her the books. “It will give you something to read and pass the time until you reach Castle Black.”

Shireen reverently reached for the books and held them close to her chest as if they were a piece of glass, one sudden move on her part and they would break.

“Oh thank you, Father!” Shireen exclaimed happily. “I'll keep them safe.”

He grinned at that. There was no doubt in Stannis' mind that his daughter would treat his books with the utmost care.

“Come here Snowflake.” He said emotionally as he pulled Shireen into a big bear hug.

Shireen closed her eyes and laid her head on Stannis' stomach and soaked it the much-needed love. For the first time in her 11 years, she was able to hold her father and for him to show her some much need affection without any repercussions from her mother.

For years, Selyse had tried to soar the relationship between father and daughter, but it seemed that their bond was stronger than Selyse's hate.

“Be careful Father,” Shireen said quietly into his chain mail, armored shirt.

Stannis chuckled and gently rubbed the back of his daughter's head. “Oh Snowflake, I have never lost a battle and I don't intend to start now. You just take care of Devan and Maric as you make your way to Castle Black.”

He watched as his daughter nodded her light brown head. He placed a gentle kiss on her forehead and then helped her into the back of the cart with Devan.

He stood back and watched his hand say goodbye to his boys. He knew that this would be emotional for Davos so he waited until he was finished with Maric and then called him over.

“Your Grace,”  Maric said with a bow.

Stannis gave his God-son a look before he spoke. “Maric, I'm trusting you with Shireen's care.” He firmly spoke, in a voice that broke no argument. “Help your father keep her safe.”

“I will guard her with my life Uncle,” Maric said in a sure voice. “No harm will come to her you have my word of honor.”

And that was good enough for Stannis as he pulled Maric into a hug and then sent him on his way to say goodbye to Allard.

Davos wandered over to him with a determined look.

“I hope you have some faith in me that I can keep Shireen safe.” Davos teased.

Stannis shot his friend a teasing grin of his own. “Well in your old age, I some times wonder if you can raise your sword. Let alone keep up with an 11-year-old.”

Davos just rolled his eyes good naturally. He didn't even hesitate, he pulled Stannis into a hug.

“Shireen will not leave my sight, Your Grace, you have my word,” Davos whispered in his ear.

Stannis gave his hand a firm nod, he couldn't say anything else. The sheer emotion of his friend's protectiveness of his daughter was enough to make him release a deep sigh of relief.

When the party was ready to leave, Davos commanded 10 of his best men including Maric and they began to leave camp and make their way towards Castle Black. Stannis released a dark chuckle as he saw Davos stick Melisandre at the very back of the convoy. He gave Shireen one last wave.

Now with his most precious treasure on her way to safety with his closest friend, he could focus on the main task at hand.

The first would be breaking down camp and the second would be to take back Winterfell!

The second was easier said than done!


	4. Chapter 3: Vengeance interrupted

After both Stannis and Allard the cart carrying both Shireen and Devan leave, with Davos and 10 of Stannis' best men along with Melisandre bringing up the rear, vanished from sight, they turned as one and began to make their way back towards camp.

“Captain Seaworth,” Stannis began as they walked past the many tents.

“Your Grace,” As Allard almost stood to attention but then realized they were walking.

He turned his black head towards his God-son and gave him a chuckle.

“Have the camp followers starting breaking down the camp. The house tents, the surgery, and the mess. Have them save the War tent for last.” Then he stopped and rubbed his hand over his fleshly shaved face in thought. “Gather all the commanders and have them meet me in the War tent so we can discuss our next course of action.”

Allard nodded “It will be done, Your Grace.” And with that, Allard sped off to do the King's bidding.

Stannis shook his head ruefully. Sometimes he wished that he had that childlike pep in his step when he issued out orders but then he quickly remembered that he was the True King of Westeros and the Seven Kingdoms. He couldn't afford to shirk his duty and live in a fantasy world.

No matter how wonderful that fantasy may be.

He pulled himself out of his fantasy world and stepped inside his War tent and then made his way towards his painted table and began to study the map.

“Now,” He muttered to himself as he placed his hands behind his back and began to pace back and forth. “Where do I go from here?”

With a deep sigh, he stopped pacing and placed both hands on the table and stared at it hard.

He was jarred from his thoughts when Allard entered.

“They're coming Uncle.” He said as he made his way towards him.

“Very good Captain.” Stannis praised and then looked up when the first of the commanders began to enter.

When everyone had entered the tent, Stannis turned them and gave a serious look.

“Now that the first part of my plan has been put into effect, we are now faced with serious issue gentlemen,” Stannis began as he started to pace the length of the painted table. “Do we rouse the Northern Houses to our cause or do we find a suitable place to garrison the men?”

They were all very good questions, but somehow Stannis knew he was going to get some push back.

And he knew he had been right!

For over an hour, the Lord Commanders of his army argued the best course of action. Even Allard jumped into the foray once or twice. Stannis sat back in his high back

chair and gently massaged his temples. He felt a headache coming on.

He placed two fingers on the bridge of his nose, closed his eyes and sighed.

“Gentlemen!” His firm voice broke through the din. “This arguing is getting us nowhere.”

“Oh, well said Your Grace!” Lord Myles Morrigen of Summerhall said as he clapped his hands enthusiastically.

Stannis shot the lord a dry look. He despised court politics and pretty lies! And Lord Morrigen was a cutthroat if he ever saw one. To your face, his pretty lies would flow from his lips like honey but the very minute your back was turned, Lord Morrigen would be the first one to stab you in the back.

But he couldn't very well turn Lord Morrigen away. He couldn't risk the wronged man making his way to King's Landing and bending the knee and pledging his army to Tommen.

“This latest storm proved one thing,” He continued but shot a quick look at Lord Morrigen at his interruption. “We are nowhere near prepared for the Northern winters as we should be.”

As he glanced around the tent, he saw that his commanders start to reluctantly agree with him.

“We need to find a suitable place to garrison the men or we could lose more to the storms.” He said firmly.

After Stannis finished talking, the commanders talked amongst themselves until Lord Selwyn stepped forward. “What about our food rations, Your Grace?” It was a question that needed to be asked. 

Which caused Stannis to sigh. He had known for some time that question would make its appearance. It was one that he prepared to answer. He and Davos made sure there were preparations in place before he left with Shireen to Castle Black.

Stannis turned his Baratheon blue eyes towards Selwyn. “I could lie and say we will make through the hardest part of winter, but most of you know that I despise pretty lies and half-truths. A good king should face his men with the hard truth rather than a pretty lie.”

He took a breath and continued. “Lord Selwyn, my fellow lords, as most of you know I survived the siege of Storm's End for a whole year during my brother's rebellion when Ser Davos arrived, slipping past both the remnants of the Targaryen fleet and the Tyrell ships in only his little boat and delivered our onions. But before that, my men and I nearly starved to death.”

As he paused, he listened as the men talked over each other. When he turned to both Selwyn and Allard, they each gave him a reassuring nod.

“That's not death I want these men to face. We learned during the siege that meat was a blessing. And that is why I had the camp butcher prepare meat from some of the pack mules, as well from stray dogs that need to be put out of their suffering. The sick and weak horses, their meat can be used as jerky. We are not in the starving stage yet but we can hold it off until we can better our situation. That is why we need to find somewhere to garrison the men soon before all of our food rations run completely out and the Bolton's have believed they have won!”

Once he was finished, there was a resounding cheer that echoed through the tent.

When the din died down, Stannis turned back to the table in front of him.

“But the question remains gentlemen,” He said as he began to pace with his hands behind his back. “Where do we go from here?”

As he looked at each of his men, not one of them could answer his question nor give a believable answer that fitted their situation.

It felt like pulling teeth with a dull knife.

It really shouldn't be that hard to find or locate a place to garrison their men without the Bolton's being the wiser. You would think that he had asked them for their best horse or even their firstborn daughter in their hand for marriage.

If he knew that decorum would permit it, he would roll his eyes at their antics.

Before long, Stannis' head shot up at the sound of his God-son clearing his throat.

“May I speak, Your Grace?” Allard asked as stepped closer to the table.

“You may Captain.” He said with a sigh of relief.

Allard nodded and then moved around the table to stand beside his God-father. “I may have a place you can go to.” He paused and then braced himself.

Stannis looked down at his God-son. “If it's any better than some of these ideas that these idiots have been spouting for over an hour, then I'm all ears.” He finished, ignoring the disgruntled looks and voice that sounded from his right.

But he soon put a stop to it with a mild glare.

“You may proceed, Captain,” Stannis said, not taking his eyes off his commanders.

“Thank you, Your Grace,” Allard answered with a grin. Then he cleared his throat and continued. “As you all know, before my father left with my younger brothers and Princess Shireen for Castle Black, we did some scouting ahead and we found a clearing just off the King's Road that's hard to see from the road unless you're looking,” Allard paused when one of the commanders scoffed.

“You found a clearing!?” The disbelieving Lord, Ser Jasper Wylde, said as he scoffed again. “How would the son of a base-born raised Knight and Lord from Flea Bottom, know anything about tracking and scouting?”

It was then that Stannis turned his head and sent a glare that spelled death Lord Wylde's way. Now Stannis understood the very reason why Lord Wylde's son Triston would roll his eyes and why Lord Wylde's sister, Carrell Wylde, made it a point to hit Jasper over the head with a wooden spoon.

Lord Jasper Wylde wasn't the brightest egg in the Wylde bunch.

“A damn sight better than you ever would!” Allard all but growled, his father's Flea Bottom accent coming through with each word.

Even as he held Allard back, Stannis couldn't help but grin.

It seemed that Lord Jasper Wylde was putting his large foot in his mouth.

Lord Selwyn decided to keep the council on track and not have any bloodshed, “What is so special about this clearing, Captain Seaworth?” Selwyn asked as crossed his massive arms over his chest.

Allard sighed and gave his God-father a grateful smile, all the while not taking his sharp blue eyes off of Lord Wylde. 

“As I was saying,” He paused, daring Lord Wylde to speak again. “The clearing is just off the King's Road. The trees give it cover so that you are not quite seen from the road. But it also gets you somewhat closer to where need to go, to keep an eye on the Bolton's.” When he finished, Stannis looked at his God-son with pride.

“Does that satisfy your curiosity, Lord Wylde?” Stannis asked through clutch teeth.

When Jasper looked to his King and saw his arms bulging out of his black chain mail, plated shirt as he crossed his arms, he gulped. But it was the look in his Baratheon blue eyes that made Jasper lose his fight.

“N-not quite, Your Grace.” Lord Jasper stuttered. 

Now it was Stannis' turn to growl. “What more could you possibly want man?!” He was close to reaching across the painted table and strangling him.

“Your Grace, how sure are we that Bolton's won't spot us?” Lord Wylde managed to get out without stuttering. 

“We can't My Lord,” Allard said with a sigh. “But that doesn't necessarily mean that we will get caught if we still left.”

Stannis stared at the Wylde lord for a moment.

“Do you doubt my God-son's word, Ser Jasper?” He asked firmly. 

“N-n-never Your Grace!” Lord Wylde stuttered to reply, his eyes wide with shock.

“Because Allard's word, is as good as my own!” Stannis spoke firmly, not just to Lord Wylde but to everyone in the tent. He then turned to Lord Selwyn. “You have anything to add Lord Selwyn?”

Baratheon blue met with the Tarth Sapphire as Stannis turned his head toward the Tarth Lord.

Selwyn shook his blond head. Selwyn Tarth of Tarth was still as handsome as he had been prime or at least that was what some of the female camp followers said between giggles which caused Stannis to roll his eyes and shake his blackhead.

Selwyn was tall, about 6'6”. He had blond hair with flecks of grey running through it. His eyes were blue and sharp as a sapphire.

“No, Your Grace.” Selwyn's deep voice said gruffly. “I do believe that Captain Seaworth's assessment is correct. I couldn't have said it any better.” When he finished speaking, he turned a hard sapphire glare on Lord Wylde, causing the other man to shirk under the gaze of the big man from Tarth.

Stannis nodded. Pleased that he could move forward without any other interruptions.

“Then it's settled,” He began as he pointed to the spot on the painted table. “This is where we will make camp. Lord Wylde,” He began.

When the other man looked at him, Stannis tried to contain his amusement at how skittish the other man was.

“Since you feel the need to object to every action that I or any of my men put forth before this council, then you can be responsible for the rest of the camp being broken down,” Stannis began as he crossed his arms over his wide chest. 

“You will also be leaving here ahead of the main army to our next campsite and oversee the set up before we get there.” He finished firmly.

To say that Lord Jasper Wylde looked put out was an understatement! And it made Stannis share a look of amusement with both Allard and Selwyn. Sometimes he worried about some of the men in his army, but he knew what Jasper would be like because the lord had been vastly loyal to his brother Renly.

“B-but Your Grace,” Jasper began to sputter. “That's servants' work!”

Not one to back down, Stannis gave the sniveling man a cold, blue-eyed stare. “Lord Wylde, how do you manage your tent on your own?” He questioned.

“Oh, that's easy Your Grace,” Lord Wylde began with a knowing smile. “I let the servants do it.”

Stannis rolled his eyes. He should have known that would answer that Lord Wylde would give.

After everything was agreed upon, Stannis gave the order for camp to be struck. It was time for him to begin to rally the North to his side.

 

 

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After the last of the tents had been packed away into the carts, Stannis stood by his saddled black destrier Thunder, and watched in growing amusement as a melancholy Lord Jasper Wylde, led the convoy of carts that housed the tents, kitchen equipment and medical supplies, but also the small army of camp followers that were led by Jasper's sister Carrell.

That woman was full of fury itself. She the impediment of that term:  _“The Seven Hell's held no Fury as a woman scorned”_!

She was the only woman that Jasper was scared of. And if the truth was made public knowledge, she scared him too. Maybe it stemmed from her time of being the head cook at Storm's End, but it mostly had something to do with her being Stannis' nanny.

Each of Cassana Baratheon's sons had nanny's instead of Septa's.

Of course, his father was happier for it because, in his opinion, Septa's were meant for the young ladies of the Keep whereas Maesters taught boys to be men and help mold and shape them into Lord's of the Castle.

He was always grateful for Maester Cressen's teachings. The saddest day had been when he told his old friend, that he brought Maester Pylos in to limit the walks up the long stairs Dragonstone, but Cressen understood.

When Cressen had died at Dragonstone, he had sat in his high back chair in the Painted Room and cried for the older man.

Stannis was pulled out of his dreary thoughts as the last of the caravan rolled past him, his God-son and Lord Selwyn. Now was not the time to recall such thoughts. He would wait until he was in the privacy of his tent.

He turned to the men beside him and gave them a nod. With that, each man mounted their mounts and ride off at a slower pace with the main army.

Stannis wanted to put some distance between them and Lord Jasper's caravan.

The slower pace meant that they would move through the snow quicker. As he turned his black head toward the dark clouds in the sky, he got the feeling that another storm was going to roll through and he prayed that Old God's would keep the snows at bay.

“Captain Seaworth,” Stannis said in a firm, deep voice.

“Your Grace!” Allard replied as he pulled his horse beside his God-father's.

“Scout ahead and keep an eye out for any Bolton soldiers who might be hiding in the woods.” He ordered. “Roose Bolton is not a stupid man! He will have spies and lookouts in the woods to watch for traitors but I'm not taking any chances.”

Allard glanced at his God-father for a moment before he nodded, turned towards his horse and rode on ahead.

When Allard disappeared out of sight, Stannis turned to Selwyn. “You and I will lead the main army and push our way to where Jasper is setting up camp.”

After Selwyn nodded in agreement, the two big men gracefully swung themselves into the saddles of their destriers, without the assistance of the stirrups, and then began riding the same path that both Jasper and Allard had taken a few seconds before.

As he rode, Stannis sighed. Somehow his gut told him that the Bolton's were going to stretch this out, even though it was battle they could not win. He just had to convince the Northern houses that the Bolton's were determined to fight a battle that they could not and would not win.

 

 

~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~

 

 

The trail that led through the woods, was deadly silent.

There was not a bird nor any animal insight. It was like all the animals had sensed that the Bolton's were going to take over.

A cold shiver ran up and down his spine. This silence was making him squirm in Thunder's saddle. The hairs were standing up on the back of his neck. They were being watched and not in a good way.

“Your Grace, are you well?” Selwyn asked, his deep voice laced with worry.

Stannis turned his head towards the older blond and sighed.

“I am quite fine Lord Selwyn,” He began as he quickly turned his head toward woods and then turned back to the Tarth lord. “But I feel there is an uneasy feeling in the air.” 

Lord Selwyn too, turned towards the woods. “Could it be a Bolton spy?” He asked.

Stannis shook his head. “It doesn't feel that way. Its something else entirely.” 

With those words, the two men rode on but their guard began to rise.

Meanwhile, as Stannis and Lord Selwyn led the main army down the rode to reconnect with Allard and Lord Jasper Wylde, Brienne of Tarth and her squire Podrick Payne camped not far from the south wall of Winterfell where she could see the window of the Broken Tower from the hill.

“Breakfast is ready for you my lady,” Podrick called from the fire.

When she turned towards her squire she sighed. There was still a lot she had to teach the boy. Even though he was a man of 20, he was still a boy in her eyes. A boy that had a lot to learn.

“Podrick, it's best not to yell. You do not know where the Bolton men are hiding.” Brienne said firmly as she made her way towards the fire beside her squire.

Podrick dipped his head and looked chagrined. “I'm sorry my lady.” He replied as he handed Brienne a plate.

“I'm not a lady Pod!” She exclaimed. “I wish to the Old Gods and New, that people would understand that and see it!”

Podrick wisely kept his mouth closed during his Lady's tirade.

“What?!” She growled. She couldn't take Podrick's eyes on her, staring. Watching as if she were a specimen in a maester's specimen dish.

“But you are a Lady, my Lady.” Podrick hesitantly. The last thing he wanted to do was get on the bad side of Lady Brienne.

Brienne couldn't help give Podrick a mild glare. “But I'm not a lady so why would I be something that I'm not.” Came her mild reply. “I have a duty and a vow to Lady Catelyn I made to return her daughters to her. But now that Lady Catelyn is gone, I still have a duty to rescue Lady Sansa and protect her at all cost.”

All Podrick could do was stare at the woman before him.

Sometimes he wondered how fickle people could be. There was an exceedingly tall, all be it beautiful woman, but somehow, Lady Brienne refused, refused, to see that she was indeed a woman and a Lady.

If Pod stopped and thought about it, his mistress truly never thought of herself as a Lady at all.

He wondered if the men in the Stormland's and more specifically in Tarth- the Sapphire Isle, were so cruel.

But then again he knew that Stormlander's could be cruel, Meryn Trant was a rare breed. He watched the vile and cruel things that King Joffrey made Ser Meryn inflict upon not only the people of Flea Bottom but also Lady Sansa. He would shudder every time he thought about Trant's cruel smile.

After that, the conversation dies between Brienne and Pod and they both ate their breakfast in silence.

That was until the din was broke by the sound of hoofbeats and the rattling of armor.

Both their heads shot up and they each shared a look!

In perfect unison, they moved to the edge of the woods that led to the road and watched in awe or Brienne's case, horror, as armed men in full armor and on horseback made their way up the road that led them to Winterfell and Lady Sansa.

Silently, Brienne began to creep along the tree line and watched the army as it went past.

Then Pod watched as his Lady stiffened. He hurriedly made his way over to her.

“What is it, my Lady?” He asked frantically.

But Brienne never said a word, she just stared hard at the man who led the army forward. It was then Podrick heard a growl come from the back of her throat as she picked up speed and continued to follow them.

Knowing that there could be trouble, Podrick shook his head and followed his mistress. Everything had been so much easier when he squired for Lord Tyrion.

Brienne moved along the treeline at a steady pace. Never giving the leader any ground.

Then all of sudden the commander stopped, dismounted, and looked around his surroundings. All the while, Brienne remained hidden in the trees until she made her move. There was no way that she was missing her opportunity to get her much needed revenge for King Renly.

For Stannis, knowing that someone was watching him but couldn't see them, put him on edge.

His right hand was ever-present on the pommel of his sword, not knowing if he should draw it or leave it. His battle senses were working overtime! He didn't know if there was a friend or foe present in the trees. And that's was what worried him.

It wasn't so much of protecting himself, he was a survivor. He didn't survive a whole year as his family home was laid siege to. It was the men at his back and the ones he sent ahead. Their lives were in his hands. And he would be responsible for their deaths should anything go wrong.

“Everything alright Uncle?” Allard asked as he moved beside him.

Stannis turned his black head towards his God-son. “No Allard, everything is not all right!” He said with a shake of his head.

His dark Baratheon blue eyes swept the area, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end.

He had the feeling that he wasn't alone!

Stannis continued to spin in a circle. Searching for the source that put his battle senses on edge. He turned to Allard and nodded his head.

“Spread out Allard, leave no stone, hedge or tree unturned.” His firm deep voice ordered. “I want this whole place checked!”

Allard immediately snapped to attention and began issuing orders. “Do you think it could be Bolton soldiers Uncle?” He asked, if his question were correct then by the Gods, he wasn't leaving his Uncle to fend for himself.

“I'm not sure Allard,” Stannis began as he turned a reluctant smile towards Allard, even though the smile didn't reach his blue eyes. “One can't be too careful.”

But that remark took on a double meaning because no sooner did the words leave his mouth, the feeling in his stomach began to work over-time.

“ **Ahhhhhh!** ” A scream resounded through the air as a crashing sound could be heard coming from the trees towards them.

“What the Devil!?” Allard yelled as he immediately drew his sword.

Stannis had just enough time to spin towards the direction of the trees, draw his sword and then point to his God-son.

“Check the left...” But before he could a finish, a large female tackled him full force. 

“FOR RENLY!” She screamed. 

The force of the hit was enough to knock the air out of his lungs. For a split second, he turned to stare at the large woman before he instinctively rolled to his left and popped up in a crouch.

No sooner did he stand up, when the female knight attacked him with a mighty swing.

He brought his sword up to deflect. While he fought on the defensive, it gave him a chance to observe her technique. She was good, he would give her that. But her technique was sloppy! She was letting her anger over-ride her commonsense and as a result, that left her left open and vulnerable.

Seeing his opening, Stannis began to go on the offensive.

Without taking his eyes off the angry blond in front of him, he expertly twirled the sword in his right hand and then attacked with a swing of his own.

Brienne got the shock of her life when Stannis began his attack.

She knew that Lord Stannis Baratheon was a great swordsman as well as a great military commander but she never fought against him until now. She had a time trying to deflect his attacks. Every time she tried to find an opening in his defenses, he would shut her down and push her back. Frustrated, she decided to try a new tactic. 

She stepped back, took a deep breath and then began to break out into a run, charging Stannis head-on. Swinging her sword as she let a loud warrior yell.

But her attack was short-lived when Stannis immediately brought his sword up and deflected her back. While Brienne tried to fight back valiantly, she was no match for Stannis' seasoned swordsmanship.

Knowing that he has her right where he wants her, Stannis brings his sword up and attacks with fast, concise blows.

Brienne begins to tire, she can't keep up with Stannis' fast pace.

Seeing an opening, Stannis went in for the kill. With a twirl of his sword, Stannis came at Brienne's blindside which forced the tall woman to miss a step. Not stopping, he took advantage of Brienne's precocious situation and brought his sword up to catch Brienne's, twirled it and then disarmed her. Brienne stood there in opened mouthed shock.

But before she could get her barrings and charge full sprint towards Stannis, he spun his sword and held it to her throat.

Stannis took a moment to take in Brienne's defiant face. “Now that the display of strength is over,” He began. “Let's us now discuss why you felt the need to attack me!”

Brienne just knelt in front of him and stared. She kept her mouth tightly closed.

“Have nothing to say?” Stannis all but growled.

Again Brienne kept her mouth shut. Stannis could only shake his black head in utter disbelief. Why did some people have to be so damn stubborn!?

“Very well!” He was done with this. But before he could say anything more, there was noise coming from the bushes.

“ **WE FOUND SOMEONE HERE YOUR GRACE!** ” A voice yelled that caught his attention.

“BRING THEM FORWARD!” He yelled back. 

When he turned his head back to Brienne, he noticed the look on her face. It was the pure instinct to run and save her friends. He knew just by looking at her that she wasn't the type of woman to save herself, she would put others before her safety.

“My lady if anything to say now would be the time to speak up,” Stannis said calmly, trying to keep his deep voice gentle as possible. Now was not the time to lose his temper.

Still, Brienne said nothing but began to struggle as Stannis' men dragged a boy from the bushes.

It was at that moment that a deep voice couldn't keep quiet a moment longer. “For the love of the Seven girl, tell our Grace what he wants to know!” The voice demanded.

Brienne's head snapped around so fast that Stannis was afraid she had whiplash.

“Father,” She began. But Selwyn held up a hand.

“No! Enough! You will tell him what he wants to know and you will do so now daughter!” Selwyn said in a tone that broke no argument.

“I can not Father,” Brienne answered back, squaring her shoulders and lifting her chin in defiance.

Stannis had to admire her strong will and he watched Selwyn's shoulders slump in defeat, he realized this female, this warrior, was his only daughter. He had heard that Selwyn trained his daughter in the art of becoming a soldier and a knight. But he hadn't seen her skill up close until now.

When his men brought the boy to him and roughly forced him to his knees, he watched out the corner of his eye as Brienne began to struggle.

“What is your name lad?” Stannis began as he circled the kneeling boy like a feral animal ready to pounce.

“P-p-p-Podrick.” Pod stuttered. He had heard tales about the Stag King in front of him.

And he was one of the few squires to see this man's skill on the battlefield. The Battle of Blackwater would make anyone shudder in fear, but all he could see was see this man move with Wolf-like grace. He fought with the strength of 200 men combined and he even watched as experienced soldiers became cowards when he turned towards them.

Men, who would face cavalries of other houses charging toward them, ran screaming bloody murder back towards the Keep. Hoping against hope that the Red Keep would provide them protection from the Black streak coming towards them.

“Podrick,” Stannis' eyes brows furrowed. “A Westlander?!”

Podrick could only nod his head in wide-eyed shock.

“Words boy!” Stannis all but growled.

“Y-yes, Your Grace.” He stuttered again. In Podrick's mind, he didn't think Stannis realized how intimidating he could be.

“Your house?” Stannis continued.

“Payne, Your Grace!” He said, his voice starting to become more confident.

“Payne, Payne,” The name began rolling off Stannis' tongue. “Any relation to Ser Illyn Payne?”

Podrick closed his eyes and sighed. It always seemed to come back to that disciple piece of humanity. “Yes, Your Grace. He's my second cousin.” Sometimes Podrick wished that Lord Tywin had killed Illyn instead of taking the fools tongue.

“Ah!” Stannis nodded in understanding. “So we can assume that your family is a vessel and banner house of House Lannister.”

All Podrick could do was nod again.

“Very well!” As he turned and began to walk away.

“ _Lord Baratheon_ ,” Brienne growled in protest but grunted when she was shoved hard in the back.

“He is your King, address him as such!” Allard growled at that female warrior in front of him.

“He's not  _My King_!” Brienne all but growled as she swung her blond head around and gave Allard a glare that would cut a well-seasoned soldier in half if she could.

Stannis sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration.

“This is not getting us anywhere!” He half-moaned, half-yelled. 

The silence that enveloped the clearing, was eerie. You could hear a pin drop! He watched as some of his soldiers and generals shared startled looks with each other, hoping against hope that the other beside them would hold the answer.

Stannis soon realized that it would be up to him to provide an answer. He sighed once again. “Bind their hands and put them on their horses. We'll take them back to camp and hopefully, we will get more answers from them and what their fate will be.” As he finished, he raised a hand. 

“Lord Selwyn, I have not yet decided your daughter's fate. But your daughter is hiding something, there is a reason why we found her here. And she did attack me,” While Selwyn's mouth was still open to protest, Stannis interrupted again. “I will pass fare judgment if she tells me what she is hiding and why she was here.”

With that, Stannis turned and left the large blond sputtering as he made his way to his Destrier Thunder. He leapt into the saddle without the use of stirrups! 

Sitting tall and regal in the saddle, he turned his men and watched as the last man readied himself either in the saddle or back in formation. With a firm nod, he gave the order.

“Back to Camp!” He loudly commanded.

As they moved forward, he gave his two captives one last look.

By the time he was settled, these two would have a lot of explaining to do as to what they were doing out here. He would have his answers one way on the other.

 

 

 

~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~

 

 

**~ Stannis' Camp Off The Kingsroad ~**

 

When Stannis and the rest of his army made it back to the new campsite, they were exhausted.

As he turned to his new prisoners, they looked like they were ready to fall out of their saddles. Stannis couldn't help but grin just a little. Even though Lady Brienne was a good fighter and nearly bested him in open combat, she still attacked him without provocation.

There was a lot that needed to be discussed.

“Allard, make sure our guests are comfortable in one of the empty tents and have one of our best soldiers guarding at all times until we're ready for them.” Stannis began as he swung down from Thunder. 

Allard sighed and stared at his uncle. “Uncle, are you sure that is a good idea?” He began as he watched his Uncle Stannis give him a mild glare. “She did try to attack you!”

“Yes, but she didn't succeed Allard,” Stannis said patiently. “We must strive to treat our prisoners with the respect they deserve.”

“She attacked you!” Allard yelled. “If you ask me, she deserves to spend some time in the cells. She can rot there for all I care. She does NOT deserve special treatment as far as I'm considered!” Allard finished by shooting Brienne a hateful glare that could her insides out.

Stannis sighed. Even though his God-son was now the oldest of Davos's remaining sons, he was still a boy. A boy who had lost so much already due to a needless war that could have easily been avoided if Cersei or Renly recognized him as the rightful heir to Roberts throne. But Renly had the Tyrell's whispering his ear and made him drunk on power.

And then there was Cersei Lannister! He refused to call his late older brother's whore of a wife, a Baratheon. From the moment Robert was alive, Cersei had cockhold him and made him believe her bastards were his children.

This war was formed because Cersei refused to let go of her power, refused to see she was beaten.

She put her incestuous seed on the throne and as a result, many good men died or were dead. Ned Stark, even though his brother boasted about his love from him, Stannis had nothing but respect for the man. And that man found out Cersei's secret like Jon Arryn, Ned lost his head on Joffrey's orders.

That resulted if his spies in the capital were to be believed, in young Arya Stark being missing and Ned's eldest daughter Sansa, to be a virtual prisoner in the Red Keep.

But what happened after that was anyone's guess.

After Ned's death, the information that his spies passed to him, dwindled. Nothing! It was like darkness had descended on his network. But his network had pulled though with information about Ned's son and heir, Robb. They told him about the army he was amassing to free his father, only to take the battle to Tywin fucking Lannister.

Robb Stark- the young Wolf they called him, was a boy as well. Much like Allard.

Yet the young Stark was crowned King of the North by his people and the boy took the fight to Tywin. Winning virtually every battle he went up against the brilliant tactician. Stannis couldn't help but grin at that.

He knew that the Great Lion of the West prided himself about being a brilliant battle stagiest and an even brilliant commander.

But it had taken a green boy who hardly saw a battlefield a day in his life, beat and push the once Great Lion back a quarter-mile. But somewhere along the way, Robb got cocky and complaisant. He had let his cock rule his commonsense when he broke faith with House Frey and married a foreign woman.

Of course, neither Houses Frey and Bolton were innocents in this. They broke that sacred Guest Right for Lannister gold. And it was more for House Bolton! Not only had they took Tywin's gold, but they also took the Stark's ancestral seat.

As he looked at his God-son, that all went through his mind.

“Allard,” Stannis began gently. “I'm not asking you to give Lady Brienne special treatment. Even though she is technically our prisoner, she still very much our guest and must be treated accordingly.”

Allard looked at his Uncle, his blue eyes knitted in confusion for a moment until it dawned on him what his God-father was trying to convey.

“You don't want to lose favor with Lord Selwyn!” He said softly in understanding.

Stannis sighed with relief. “He is the only one from the Stormlands that could sway the other Stormland Lord's to leave and side with the Lannister's. Cersei and Tywin would have control of the entire Stormland army and that hinged on what happens with Lord Selwyn's daughter.” He said as he turned towards the opening in the clearing that led towards the Kings Road. 

He placed his hands behind his back and stared straight ahead.

“My alliance with Selwyn has always been one of reluctance,” He began with a sigh. “Even though he joined my army after Renly died, I often felt like I didn't have Selwyn's loyalty. Renly had that!” Stannis grounded his teeth together as he recalled the memory.

“But I thought you were/are his liege lord, shouldn't he respect your power?” Allard asked in confusion.

He turned towards his God-son and gave a mild smile. “Yes in part Allard. When Robert gave our younger brother Storm's End, he inadvertently caused a rift between the houses in the Stormlands. Selwyn's house was one of them.” The words seemed to flow freely from Stannis' mouth.

“His loyalty was divided between abiding by his King's decision in giving his youngest brothers the reigns of Lordship at a young age or supporting the second son and true lord of his long-deceased liege lord.” Stannis' teeth ground together at remembering the humiliation of what Robert did. “Robert tied the hands of our bannermen and I was forced to take lordship of Dragonstone.”

For a few long moments, Allard could only stare at his God-father with a sad expression. His God-father did not have an easy life where Robert and Renly were concerned! Then there was his cold marriage to a vile, cold-hearted, religious fanatic, stone harpy from the Reach. But if there was one thing his mother Marya always told him, the Old God's and now have a way of putting obstacles in front of you as a test before they made the way clear.

And if Allard knew one thing, Stannis had put himself on the right course with Old God's.

“If I know Lord Selwyn Uncle, he will not hold a grudge against you for what you must do with Lady Brienne,” Allard said as he gently laid a hand on Stannis' broad shoulder.

“Your optimism in me, does my heart good.” The older man said as he patted the hand on his shoulder.

Stannis took a deep breath and then turned back towards his God-son.

“See to it that a tent is prepared for Lady Brienne and her squire Captain,” He began as he turned and made his way back to camp, with Allard keeping step beside him. “When that's done, call the Lord's to the War tent for a council meeting and have Lord Selwyn there as well.”

Allard turned to his God-father and bowed.”It will be done, Your Grace!” With one final bow, he made his way towards the camp to complete his tasks.

Stannis watched him leave and sighed. He knew without anyone having to tell him that he was in for a battle. He was going to war and it was going to be a war with his men. Selwyn was going to fight tooth and nail! He just to the Old God's that he didn't lose Selwyn's fealty over this.

 

 

~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~

 

 

**~ Council ~**

 

The noise that came from the tent, vibrated throughout the entire camp.

Stannis sat in his high back chair and rubbed his forehead in frustration and also to stay off a headache that started to form.

It was like dealing with a bunch of children!

“Something must be done!” One voice yelled through the din.

“Yes, yes, this girl needs to be taught a lesson.” Another piped up. “What right does she have to attack our King?! The Wall would be too good for her, I say that the King's justice must be dealt with.”

All of sudden the sound of metal sliding from a sheath could be heard throughout the tent, followed by a startled yelp.

“And I suppose you're man enough to do just that, are you, Jasper?” A tall blond all but growled as he held his long sword to Jasper Wylde's throat.

“I-it is a matter of principal Selwyn.” Jasper sputtered. “Your daughter attacked our King, justice must be observed!” Before he could even finish, Jasper felt himself struggling for breath as Selwyn pressed his sword deeper into his throat.

“On your head, be it, if my daughter dies Wylde!” Selwyn growled.

Before he could pull his hand back to slit Jasper's throat, the sound of someone clearing their throat, broke Selwyn's concentration as he spun his blond head towards the high back chair.

“That will do Selwyn!” Stannis firmly proclaimed as he gently rubbed his temples.

“Your Grace,” Selwyn growled in frustration but back down from the heated glare that Stannis sent him.

“That..will..do, Lord Selwyn!” Stannis growled. The feral look that came over his face caused Selwyn to pause. Stannis looked almost wolf-like.

With great reluctance, Selwyn backed down, removed his sword from Jasper's throat and replaced it in its sheath. But like a petulant child, Jasper rubbed his throat and sent a hateful glare Selwyn's way as Stannis stood and made his way around the tent.

“Seven hell's!” Stannis all but snarled as he began to walk. “Do I employ the true might of the Baratheon army or is it children that stand before me?! While the Bolton's are sitting high and mighty in the very castle, that has been in the very family for a 1000 years and has the blood of kings running through their veins, laughing at the mere fact that they think they have defeated both the Stark's and Baratheon's!” He growled. His feral temper had been unlocked from its cage and he was not backing down.

“This battle with the Bolton's is far from over, but if we are to beat them back, we must work together. And stop fighting amongst our selves!” The yell that came from Stannis' lips, vibrated around the tent, causing the men assembled to shiver in fear.

They very rarely saw their King lose his temper but when he did, he employed the vast might of the Baratheon temper. Some of the men saw shades of Robert slip through their King's calm and cool exterior.

“Oh, well said Your Gr..” Jasper began but was stopped when Stannis pinned him with a sharp look.

“Finish that sentence Wylde and I will personally remove your tongue and give it to Lord Selwyn as a souvenir.” Stannis all but growled.

Those words sent a deadly shiver down Jasper's spine as he nearly choked on his breath. From the look that he saw in his King's eyes, there was no doubt in his mind that Stannis would follow through with his threat. In a split second, he turned towards Selwyn and quickly turned away again at the Tarth Lord's look of glee.

“Since Lord Wylde seems so enthusiastic to see the King's Justice dispersed,” He began as he turned his hard blue eye stare at the sniveling man before him. “Then let us proceed with the trial and we shall see if the prisoner is guilty or innocent in the sight of the Gods!”

He glanced at Jasper one last time, daring the other man to open his mouth and say another word. He took great satisfaction in watching Wylde shrink under his stare.

“Captain Seaworth,” Stannis then turned to Allard. “Bring the prisoners.”

Allard gave a sharp nod as he made his way to the tent and bring both Brienne and Podrick to the War tent for sentencing.

 

 

~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/

 

 

With two guards, the party of five made their way back towards the tent in silence. But it was in that silence, that both Allard and Podrick watched in shock and awe as Brienne made her way toward the War tent with her head held high, shoulders square and back straight.

The tall woman looked like she was walking to her last dinner with a dignity that many prisoners didn't possess.

When they entered the tent, Stannis was sitting in his high back chair with his council of lords on either side of him. The mirror image he made by just sitting in the chair alone proved that he was meant to be king. Brienne shook her head. Even though she could see with her own eyes what was meant to be, she refused to believe that a Kin Slayer could rule an entire country.

“Lady Brienne of Tarth, daughter of Lord Selwyn, you...” A portly man began but stopped and let out a sharp yelp and clutch his side.

Brienne tried to keep a straight face but when her sapphire blue eyes met her father's, the struggle became real. And when he shot her a cheeky wink, Brienne couldn't help but snort out loud.

“Lord Wylde, my previous statement still holds!” Stannis all but growled. “One more word and Lord Selwyn will have your tongue as a trophy.”

If Brienne was shocked at Stannis' words, her expression never changed. But she did raise her eyebrows as she watched the tall Baratheon King, unfurl himself from his high backed chair and stood tall and regal. It completely shocked her how tall he was.

While his baby brother Renly, the true King of Westeros in her opinion, stood at least 6'3”, Stannis was at least 6'6”!

But even Stannis' impressive height wouldn't sway her mind!

“Lady Brienne, daughter of Lord Selwyn of House Tarth of Tarth, you stand before your father, your comrades and your King, accused of attacking the One True King,” Stannis began firmly. “Do you deny it?”

The question would make any prisoner shake with fear.

But Brienne met Stannis' hard Baratheon blue stare head-on with a hard glare of her own from her sapphire blue eyes.

“No!” She said firmly. She didn't waver as she lifted her chin higher.

Stannis growled and began to pace with his hands behind his back.

“No?!” He exclaimed. “My lady, do you realize that you can be charged with treason?” The shock in his voice was hard to keep silent.

Again, Brienne said nothing. She just stared straight ahead, a hard look on her beautiful face.

Selwyn growled and stepped forward. He could silent no longer!

“Seven hells girl!” He exclaimed. “Have I taught you nothing! This stubbornness is going to get you killed. These lords,” He began as he swept his large arm around the tent. “They crying for the King's Justice which means your head!”

Again Brienne said nothing in her defense.

“Fuck the Gods!” Selwyn yelled. He then marched up to his only child and shook her. “Tell his Grace that you made a mistake, that you swear fealty to him and you will bend the knee!”

“I can not father!” Brienne's voice was firm.

Selwyn let loose a yell as stomped away from his daughter and threw his hands up in the air in frustration.

If this situation weren't so dire, Stannis would have admired Brienne's sense of honor. But he was at war from both sides! On one hand, he the Lannister's sitting on a throne that was his by rights and was breathing down his neck. On the other, he was fighting a battle with the Bolton's, traitors to his campaign and traitors to the North and the Stark's.

“Lady Brienne, do you realize that you will give me no choice in this matter?!” He said firmly, his voice not hesitating.

“And I can not choose to follow a man and call him King when he is a known Kin Slayer!” Brienne's voice was just was firm, which caused Podrick to gulp.

Stannis gave the large woman in front him a hard look. “Of which, hasn't been proven!” He growled.

“I know what I saw.” She said with a deadly even voice. 

“Perhaps your eyes were playing tricks on you or it was a trick of the light.” Even though diplomacy wasn't his strong suit, Stannis still tried to reason with her through clutched teeth.

“I..Know.What..I...Saw!” Brienne growled right back.

Stannis let loose a frustrated snarl as began to pace back and forth the length of the tent like a caged Wolf. He had never seen a more stubborn woman in all his life. He didn't pity Selwyn for raising the girl to follow her beliefs but to accuse him of Kin Slaying! Something he had no idea was happening, it made him almost forget that Lady Brienne was indeed a woman!

He took a much-needed breath and then turned back around to face Brienne. “My lady, I can assure you that I did not kill my brother,” He began calmly only to close his Baratheon blue eyes in frustration when Brienne interrupted him.

“I know what I saw My Lord!” She all but snapped. “Do not think me ignorant because of my gender. The night Lady Catelyn came to parley with King Renly, as his King's Guard, I was in the tent when a shadow slithered in and stood behind him.” Brienne paused long enough to take a cleansing breath. “I saw him in the mirror. It had your face and drove a dagger through Renly's chest.” She all but screamed in the end.

“Lady Brienne I'm sorry that Renly died. But I didn't kill my brother!” Stannis said softly. “My lady, I wasn't even in my brother's camp. I was at my own preparing my men for a dawn attack because I knew that Renly wouldn't bend the knee for me and recognize me as the True King. Renly could use pretty court words to men to win them over to his side, but he also used those same words to form a dagger and stab you in the back!”

He watched as Brienne opened her mouth to refute his claim but then she slowly closed it and bowed her head. He sighed in relief when he noticed the fight leave her body.

“I have no doubt Lady Brienne that my brother showed you kindness by making you his King's Guard, no doubt you impressed him as you did me with your ability with the sword,” He paused and watched a shocked expression grace her face. “You're good and with the proper training, you would be formidable. I am glad that my baby brother could inspire so much loyalty.” He will give credit where credit was due.

Brienne stood in front of Stannis Baratheon, in complete shock. She had heard some of the men call him The Mannis, but she was beginning to see the making of a true king. 

“I wasn't out here to try to kill you, my vengeance over-rode my sense of reason,” She began. “And contrary to what you make think  _'Your Grace'_ , I am not a Lannister spy despite what my sword would say.” She sighed and worked her neck from side to side before she continued.

“When I fled Renly's camp with the threat of losing my head,” She turned a blue yes glare on Lord Wylde who shrank away in fear. “I fled with Lady Catelyn. She took me into her service. But things did not fare better in her son's camp. And knowing that it would be at a great personal cost to herself, she released Jaime Lannister- the King Slayer, into my custody with the possibility that I could take Jaime back to King's Landing and trade him for her daughter's safe return.” 

As Stannis listened to Lady Brienne's tale, he sighed. “Surly Lady Catelyn knew that Tywin Lannister wouldn't let both girls go even with his son's safe return?!” He was dumbfounded.

“My lady foresaw that.” Brienne continued. “Before she released us, she made both Jaime and myself swear an oath to find her daughters, protect them and return them North to her waiting arms. But when we arrived in King's Landing after Jaime lost his hand,” Brienne choked. She was a trained warrior, a soldier! From childhood, she had been made fun of because of her tall height and her plain appearance. 

She had told her father numerous times growing up that she had no time to be a proper Lady. And yet the very moment she had been taken along with Jaime, by Roose Bolton's bannermen, having them grab her and try to drag her away caused the bile to churn in her stomach.

If it hadn't been for Jaime's quick thinking, she would have been raped. She could still feel their arms around her, laughing in her ear. Ad because Jaime dared stand up for her, protect her from such a vile act, Jaime lost his hand. And not just any hand, his sword hand!

“Do you wish to continue?” Stannis asked quietly as his gruff voice would allow.

Brienne cleared her throat as she felt her father grip her shoulder, giving her strength.

“Yes, because it deals with the importance of why I'm this far North.” She said gravely.

“Very well! Continue then Lady Brienne.” Stannis firmly replied as made his way back to his chair and took a seat. His Baratheon blue eyes not leaving her face.

Brienne took a deep breath and faced Stannis head-on. 

“When things went ass up in King's Landing, and his brother was accused of murdering his son, Ser Jaime sent me North. He tasked me with finishing what Lady Catelyn sent us to do. He gave his sword, a present from his father which I named Oathkeeper, and I followed the trail in locating Lady Catelyn's daughters.”

She paused and continued. “For weeks I heard rumors that Lady Catelyn's daughter was here or there. One such rumor said she escaped King's Landing and was in the Vale. But I thought it a lie. Of course, the rumors that Lady Sansa's younger sister disappeared after their father had been murdered were true because no one knew where she was.”

“And were the rumors proven true about the mysterious Lady Sansa?” Stannis asked as he leaned back against his chair and crossed one long leg over the other.

“I saw her myself with own eyes.” She confirmed. “Podrick can even confirm the words a speak are true. We saw in a tavern in Wintertown but even though she had died her hair black, her eyes gave her away. A bright Tully blue.”

As soon as the words left her mouth, Stannis was out of his seat and across tent quicker then an arrow shot from a bow.

“Is what she says, true boy?” He all but growled at Podrick.

“Y-yes Your Grace.” Podrick stammered, afraid that if he didn't answer Stannis truthfully, he would meet the block. “With the change of her hair and clothes, I could still recognize her anywhere. While she was in King's Landing, married to my employer Lord Tyrion, she was kind to me.”

Stannis nodded and began to pace back and forth. But even as he paced, his brow furrowed.

“Lady Brienne, there is something else in your tone. Speak it.” He ordered as he spun to face her.

“My lord, my concern is for Lady Sansa. When I and Podrick came upon her at the tavern in Wintertown, she was not alone. She had a full army at her back from the Vale,” Brienne paused.

Stannis let this information sink in. “That would seem about right. Lady Sansa's Aunt, Lysa, is the Lady of the Erie.” He said as again placed his hands behind his back.

“That would be true My Lord, accept it wasn't Lady Lysa who accompanied Lady Sansa to the North and was with her in the tavern.” Her firm as her sapphire blue eyes held fire and anger for this mysterious gentleman then she did him.

“Who was this mysterious Lord?!” Stannis all but proclaimed. His deep voice firm.

Brienne took a deep breath and steeled herself for what was to come.

“Petyr Baelish, my lord!” She confirmed.

“ **BAELISH!** ” Stannis yelled, causing some of the lords in his War tent to jump at his booming voice.

“Yes your Grace. It's true.” Podick, who now found his voice, confirmed for Lady Brienne.

“Why is he doing this far North?” Stannis questioned through clutch teeth as he began to pace back and forth more furiously. “Did he give a reason as to what he was doing here Lady Brienne?”

Brienne squared back her shoulders and look her father's King right the eye. She had a feeling the Stannis Baratheon, First of his name, was not going to like her next words.

“Before I could convince Lady Sansa to leave the tavern with me, Lord Baelish stepped in and told Lady Sansa that they had a long journey and that her betrothed would most displeased that they were late,” Brienne concluded.

Stannis continued to pace back and forth like a caged wolf. There was a rage that wouldn't dissipate. Then he stopped and turned to face Brienne once more.

“Betrothed?!” He all but exclaimed. “Lord Baelish confirmed in front of you that Lady Sansa was to be married?”

Brienne nodded her blond head firmly. “Yes my Lord!” She still refused to call him  _'Your Grace'_!

“Then that means only one thing,” Stannis turned and stood in front of his Painted table. “If Baelish brought Lady Sansa this far North, then he intends to marry her, the last surviving child of Lady Catelyn and Lord Eddard of House Stark, to Roose Bolton's bastard son.” He finished with a growl as he moved the Stark Direwolf and the Bolton Flayed Man to Winterfell.

“Why wouldn't Roose marry her himself Uncle?” Allard asked as he too moved towards the table.

“Because it would be premature.” He began. “Roose already married Walder Frey's daughter, Fat Walda, so for him to wed his suppose enemy's daughter would be bigamy.” He frowned as he rubbed his chin. “Roose is smart. He knows that by marrying his bastard to a True daughter of the North, his son would be immediately recognized but also he would have control of Winterfell.”

After a moment, Stannis placed both hands on the table and leaned on them. He took a cleansing breath and addressed his council and his prisoners.

“If the wedding hasn't taken place yet, we may be able to save Lady Sansa from her fate.” He paused and looked at the table again.

“I hear but coming Uncle.” Allard teased.

Stannis allowed himself to briefly grin before his stoic facial expression appeared once more. 

“But,” He said as he shot Allard a look, causing the young man to grin in return. “If I know Roose Bolton, he won't want to wait. So we may not be in time to stop the wedding but we can still lead her to safety if she wants it.”

He looked at his nodding in agreement but it was Lady Brienne he watched as she sagged with relief. At least he could give her some comfort that way. But he sighed when he realized what he must do.

“Captain Seaworth,” Stannis began as his God-son snapped to attention. “Prepare a contingent of 12 men, yourself included, have them ready to leave in 15 minutes.”

“Yes, Your Grace!” Allard said as he gave him a salute as he made towards the tent flap to comply with his Uncle's orders.

After Allard left, Stannis turned to the Lord of Tarth.

“Ser Selwyn while I'm gone I leave you in charge of the camp and my prisoners,” He paused as he turned to Lady Brienne and her squire Podrick. “They are to be placed back under house arrest in their tent.”

Even though Selwyn wanted to say more, he complied with his King's wishes. But he had faith that his daughter would be free.

Stannis walked towards both Brienne and Podrick with a grim look.

“Please understand that this is for my men's protection as well as your own,” He began. “Until we can decide what to do with both of you, you will remain under guard in your tent until I return.”

With that, he turned and made his way towards the tent flap to prepare to leave. But before he could pull the flap back to exit, he was stopped by Lady Brienne.

“Before you go, My Lord,” Her firm voice vibrating off the walls of the tent. “You should know that before Lady Sansa left the tavern with Lord Baelish, I told her that should she require me, all she had to do was light a candle and place it in a tower window so I would see and I would come.” 

Stannis shot Brienne a look of surprise.

“You told her this?!” He exclaimed as he stepped back towards the tall woman. “Do you think there is a chance that she has already done it?!”

Brienne could shake her head grimly. “ I could not say. That was what Prodick and I were doing when you and your men came by.” Her sardonic reply had Podrick wincing. He just hoped that his Lady's comment didn't make things worse.

Stannis just rolled his Baratheon blue eyes at her comment. He turned and left the tent. He hoped that by leaving Lady Brienne in the capable hands of her father, that he might talk some sense into his daughter. But that was wishful thinking on his part.

As he made his way outside, he weaved through his men and mounted his black Destrier. He turned his head to left and watched as Lord Selwyn led his daughter and her squire back to their tent. But it was the look that she shot him as she walked by. He snorted. He had seen what the woman was capable of.

There was no way that he was letting Lady Brienne get the drop on him again.

He turned to his God-son and gave a quick nod as they headed out. Whatever retribution Lady Brienne had for him would have to wait. If what Lady Brienne said was true, then he and his men would have to hurry if they had any hope in stopping a wedding to a monster, if the stories were true about Roose Bolton's bastard.

And if not, then Stannis would do everything in his power to see to Lady Sansa's rescue. He just prayed to the Old Gods and New that he was there on time!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry that this chapter took so long, but it got it away from me. And I mean that literary, lol! This chapter is long!


	5. Chapter 4: Sword of Freedom

**~ Winterfell ~**

 

For the Northmen, the first sign of winter was the first snowfall.

Farmers, stable hands and liege lords, seem to predict when _'_ _Winter was Coming'_! Words that seemed to be long forgotten from the North and her people.

They were words that Sansa Stark, the last daughter of the once-proud House Stark and the only known surviving oldest child of Lord Eddard and Lady Catelyn Stark, never forgot. She would recite them over and over again in her mind.

She stood in front of her open window, the cold winter breeze blowing on her face and she welcomed it. She felt the chill seep down into her bones. She prayed to the Seven each night, hoping they would grant her prayer and allow the cold North chill, to freeze her heart.

Maybe with a frozen heart, it would save her from feeling and the hurt that she had to endure from her _'_ _Husband'_!

From the moment she left King's Landing, things had spiraled out of control that she didn't know what was up or down. And the one person who she thought was her constant through everything, was Petyr Baelish.

But in the end, even he lied to her when he said he wouldn't.

Long before her Aunt Lysa tried to murder her by throwing her through the open Moon door, Lysa had confessed to things that only the conspirator would know. She told Sansa that it had been her that killed Jon Arryn and that she wrote to her mother saying it was the Lannisters that did it. Chaos! That's all it had been.

But as her Aunt confessed, Sansa started to put some of the pieces together.

And it all seemed to lead back to Petyr! 

Then her Aunt was killed at the hands of Petyr, but at the time she became confused and scared when he grabbed her and told her that it was in her best interest not to repeat anything she heard to anyone. Of course, she was alone on a mountain with no friends and no immediate family.

Who did he think she would tell?! Did he think she was a stupid little girl with stupid dreams as well?!

None the less, without Petyr knowing, she filed the events away for later.

But she never got a chance to come back to the memory. As soon as her Aunt was killed, Petyr had her created a new dress, dye her familiar red hair black and pose as his bastard daughter named Alayne Stone.

Whatever excuse she made, she kept Petyr's secret from Lord Royce and the rest of the Vale lords.

After it was all said and done, it felt wrong. When they had left the Vale, made their North, encountered Lady Brienne at the tavern in Wintertown, which Petyr maneuvered them out of her reach and reached the base of Mount Cailin, it was then that the little rat told her his plan.

From the moment Petyr  _kidnapped_  her from King's Landing, he had been giving her confusing signals. Her stomach almost rolled at some of the looks he gave her. At one point when they were at the tavern, she thought he book a room for the two them to share. She shivered in revulsion. Just thought of kissing him again made her want to be physically sick.

There were a lot of times that she wanted to be sick!

And then there were times that she wanted to either strangle or stab Baelish to death!

When they stood on the look off overlooking Winterfell, for Sansa it meant returning home. For Petyr it meant yet another scheme that involved her in some way. She stood there and listened to him spout claims that he was returning her to childhood home but for a price.

She revolted! The thought of sleeping with the slimy rat, if she weren't a lady she would have a few choice words to say about the supposed Lord Baelish that wasn't ladylike!

The one thought that went through her mind as she stood there and supposedly listened to him talk, was what would the men of the Vale do if she pushed their liege lord the cliff to his death. But then her mind began to come to its senses and she realized that death would be too good for him. 

But his death was still at the forefront of her mind when he told her that she was marrying again.

Even though her outside appearance never showed it, on the inside Sansa was in complete shock. And that shock stemmed from the fact the Great Lord Baelish- Master of Coin to the King, had gone to all the trouble of finding a Septon and proving her marriage to Tyrion Lannister was unconsummated and having her marriage to the Lannister Dwarf annulled.

Then she prayed the Old Gods that is wasn't him.

The relief she felt on the inside was short-lived when he brazenly told her that he had secured the perfect match for her. Those very words made her blood run cold! A small part of her felt what Cersei felt all those years ago when Tywin offered her hand in marriage to King Robert.

But it was a very  _'small'_ part! Because of her gender and sex, Petyr was selling to the highest bidder.

Or what he thought was the highest bidder at the time. What he didn't realize when he told her that he was marrying the new Lord of Winterfell, was that she figure out in her mind that he was selling her like a broodmare. And to the one family that destroyed hers.

And she went along with it. Even it meant that she wouldn't have to be in Baelish's presents for too long.

Her stomach still churned at the forced kiss he placed on her in the garden at the Eyrie. Baelish, like everyone else in King's Landing including Cersei Lannister, thought she was a stupid little girl. But she was far from stupid! She had seen right through Petyr's ploy when they were in the Eyrie. It wasn't that big of a shock.

From the time she was younger, everyone in Winterfell and at the corners of the North had told her that she favored her mother in looks. She was the spitting image of Lady Catelyn Stark.

So it had not surprised her any when Petyr grabbed her and kissed her.

It had taken everything in her not raise her hand wipe off the offending kiss. Or at the very least be sick to her stomach. The man repulsed her. Not only because he owned Brothel's in King's Landing, but because she figured out what he trying to keep hidden from her.

From the moment she met him at her father's tourney, she always felt that Petyr looked her differently. Which he did! It made her shudder just thinking about it.

Lord Petyr Baelish, Master of Coin and Brothel genius, thought that she was Catelyn Tully reincarnated. She shuddered again. He took the image of her mother and tarnished that memory for her. When she was younger, she enjoyed the comparison. Now it was all ruined because a Lord, whose family were no more than peasants, was obsessed with a woman he could not have.

So he projected those feelings onto her oldest and only living daughter.

Sansa sighed as she drifted out of her thoughts and turned back towards her room.

Well, more like Ramsay's room than her own. Since she had been back in her childhood home, she still felt like a prisoner. Winterfell hadn't been her home since she left. She just traded one prison for another.

As she stepped in front of the large looking glass, she placed her hands on her stomach as she fanned out the material of her thin dress. She glanced at her 6 and a half month pregnant belly with a gentle smile.

“I promise you little cub, I will get us out of here. Soon.” She paused for a moment and then grinned when her son or daughter gave a strong, swift kick as their answer.

Her happy moment was shattered when the door opened softly and the real reason for her family's heartache and near extinction entered. The glare she shot the young man, who didn't even look much like the young man she knew from her childhood.

With a critical eye, she watched as Theon cowered slightly as she made her way towards the bed and began packing a leather sack full of the essentials that she would need. She only had one good dress, that she made while she in the Vale. She also packed as much food as she could carry. She would not starve nor would she let her little cub do the same. 

“What do you want Greyjoy?!” She all but growled. Her inner she-wolf that had once been caged, was now free and rearing her head.

Theon looked at the bag and things on the bed. “W-w-what are you doing Sansa?” He stuttered as he continued staring at the things.

“What am I doing?!” She all but exclaimed. “I'm doing what I must to protect myself from Ramsay. I'm safe here. And this used to be my home.”

“Y-you can't hide from Sansa.” Theon tried to make his voice stronger so he could make her see reason. “Believe me I tried. And look at what I've become. His plaything, a shell of the man that I once was.”

Sansa could only stare at Theon. She tried to curb the looks of pity and sympathy that broke out onto her face but it couldn't be done. 

“Don't pity me, Sansa.” He said. From the look on his face, Sansa could see that it was set in stone. “This is my punishment! I deserve this for what I've done, the betrayal, t-the murder I committed in the name of my father.” Theon's stuttering became worse as he tried to hold his emotions. “My b-b-b-betrayal of Robb is what hurts the most.”

Sansa had tried to ignore him while she was packing but he seemed persistent. As she began to pull on her wool dress over her thin cotton one, she closed her eyes. She tried not to think what his betrayal to her older brother and King had not only cost her but North as well.

Tears began to form in her Tully blue eyes as she tied the dress together in the front. She discreetly wiped the tears away, not wanting Theon to see the sheer pain of his betrayal.

When she swiped the dress down after she finished tying it, she sighed with relief. No one would know that she was with child. She turned back towards Theon and gave him a cold blue-eyed, Northern stare. 

“That can't be all you're sorry for Theon!” Sansa growled. “You didn't seem to show any remorse when you turned your back on my brother and gave your loyalty to your father!”

“I DO!” Theon all but yelled. “The worst decision I ever made was bending the knee to my father and taking the Ironborn vows to the Drowned God to prove myself.”

Sansa sighed in frustration. “All of this was for your father?!” She shook her red-head in disbelief. “So betrayed my father, the only man who gave you a home, a family, cloths on your back and food in your belly, and my brother so you could have your ' _Father's_ ' precious love.” The way she said  _father_  so sardonically, struck a chord with Theon.

“He's my father Sansa,” Theon began but his next words were cut off when Sansa spun and faced him.

“And where is he, Theon?!” She growled, her inner she-wolf rearing her head. “Do you see him here? Has he come to rescue you?” She took a breath.

Then she continued. “He's left you here Theon, just like Baelish married me off to a Butcher. There is no doubt in my mind that the so-called  _Lord Petyr Baelish_ knew what was he was doing when he brought me here. He sold me like a broodmare, hoping that Ramsay would break me so he could mold me into the perfect Queen that he wanted.”

Theon's mouth dropped in shock. It seemed that Ramsay had heard wrong about Sansa or what Baelish told Ramsay and his father. Sansa wasn't the broken girl from her time in King's Landing, a wolf in a golden cage. Sansa had let wolf break free, and through his muddled mind, he was glad that his foster sister grew a backbone.

“What do you intend to do?” He asked quietly. His eyes seemed to become fascinated with a spot on the stone floor.

Sansa just gave an icy stare as she grabbed her riding boots and another garment and made way behind the changing screen.

“I,” She began as she paused for effect. “Intend to get out of here before the bastard kills me.” She finished with a growl as she pulled on a pair of leather trousers that she let out at the waist due to her pregnant belly and two pairs of socks on her feet as slid on her riding boots.

Theon's hands began to frantically as paced. “B-b-but, you can't. Ramsay would know that you left, he always does.”

“You would know all about that.” She growled as she stepped from around the screen. As she made her way towards the bed, she let her hands fall on top and closed her eyes.

She sighed and slowly turned back around. “That was heartless of me and not becoming of a lady, forgive me.”

“It's less than I deserve Sansa, the things I've done to your family.” Theon gave a weak smile as he nonchalantly waved off her apology.

Sansa quietly nodded as she turned back to the bed, to finish her packing.

As she strapped a belt with one of Ramsay's many daggers across her belly and towards her back for easy access. She knew she wasn't leaving this castle without some form of protection.

Sansa went through one last check to make sure she packed everything before she marched over to Ramsay's trophy chest. Her hands began to slightly shake as she opened it. When her eyes beheld the prize inside, she released a choked gasp.

Her shaking hand moved to her mouth as she stared at her brother's Long sword.

She let out a shaky breath as her hand ever so slowly reached out and touched it. Just running her fingertips over the worn leather of the scabbard, it made her feel closer to her brother. But everywhere she turned in the dark, lonely castle, all she saw was Robb.

Her mind began to drift to the previous morning. The same morning Ramsay left for his battle.

 

_ The Previous Morning  _

 

_That morning had startled like any other. Sansa broke her fast in the rooms that she shared with her Lord husband. Which caused her to snort out loud._

_If she were honest with herself, the thing Lord about her supposed husband was the title he carried or the suppose inheritance he would receive when Roose died. He was still just a bastard. A bastard born out of rape if the rumors had been true._

_Her brother Jon, who was at the Wall serving with the Night's Watch, even though he was her father's bastard, was more of a Lord than her husband would ever be. He had more honor and was noble than Roose's bastard._

_Sansa had allowed herself a small smile at the thought._

_But as soon as the door to room creaks, the face of her supposed husband who replaced Joffrey in her tortured dreams appeared, she had to swallow the bile in her throat._

“ _A pleasant morning wife.” Ramsay greeted in a false charming voice and a sickly sweet smile._

_Sansa squeezed her hands together hard and plastered a fake smile on her. “It is a pleasant morning husband!” Her sweet smile never reached her eyes. “Have you broke you're fast yet?”_

_If Ramsay could posture and praise her beautiful lies, then so could she. She was done running scared by a monster in the night._

“ _I have.” Still trying to be charming though Sansa could see he was failing miserably, Ramsay stood at the door with his hands folded behind his back. “I have come with some most joyous news, my sweet,” As he slowly stepped forward and ran a finger through her red hair and down her back._

_The act caused Sansa to in disgust rather than the pleasure that Ramsay thought she was feeling._

“ _What is this news that as put you in a happy mood, my lord?” In times like this, Sansa reverted to her time in King's Landing when she dealing with a lesser monster than her bastard husband. The false curtsies seemed to curb his temper._

_Ramsay gave her another sickly sweet smile as he continued to run his finger up and down her arm. He even became bolder as he leaned down and sniffed her hair._

“ _My spies have sent word to father that my scheme worked.” He began with glee. “With storms picking up speed towards the Wall this time of year, I sent my best men to serve my father well and sabotage the False King's food rations and equipment. The Baratheon prick now means to attack Winterfell but with what little army he has left, he will face the full might of Bolton justice.”_

“ _Surely it is a battle you mean to win my lord,” Sansa said prettily._

_What little breakfast she did eat threatened to the happy journey back up her throat as Ramsay leaned down beside her, nuzzled her cheek and neck and then licked where his nose went._

“ _It is.” He murmured against her neck. “When I win this battle, which of course I will, I shall gift you Stannis Baratheon's – The Suppose True King of Westeros, head to you so you can mount him on your wall.”_

_Before Ramsay stood up, he bit Sansa's neck. She released a shudder of disgust as her husband finally stood and then made his way to the door once more._

“ _That would be a gift that I cherish my lord!” She said prettily._

_A malicious and sadistic grin appeared on his face as he turned back towards her and gave her a wink that meant a promise of playtime when he returned._

_When the door shut behind him, she couldn't hear his retreating feet anymore, the walls that Sansa fought so hard to build began to crumble. She was lucky that no one at the door could hear her heartbreaking sobs. In Sansa's mind, this was the Old God's way of punishing her for being a stupid girl and spoiled._

_Her foolishness and her stupidity got her into this mess._

_But her inner She Wolf was finally released out of her gilded cage, no longer held back by chains. It would now be up to Sansa to free herself from her hell._

_Then she remembered what Lady Brienne said. She prayed that the giant woman would be waiting for her when she escaped. Her only hope was to light a candle in the Broken Tower, the same tower her brother Bran had been pushed from._

 

_ End of Flashback  _

 

Sansa was pulled back to reality. She no time to dawdle on memories good and bad of her home. 

She grabbed her brother's sword, scabbard and all, and proceeded to strap the Long sword across her back. She moved it around a few times so that her traveling cloak would cover it.

As she made her way toward the bed one more, Theon cleared his throat.

Sansa sighed. “What is it now Theon?” The frustration in her voice had reached the boiling point as she spun to face the Greyjoy traitor once again.

“Before you leave, I thought it would be prudent of me to tell you the truth about what happened to your younger brothers.” He said in a steady voice, even though his hands were shaking.

It was then, that time seemed to stop. Sansa froze beside the bed.

“I don't need to know the truth about what happened to Bran and Rickon.” Her voice was steady but there was a slight quiver. She also couldn't hide the growl in the back of her throat. “The truth stands before me. You killed them and burned them. You sacked my home and you betrayed your King, a man who was like a brother to you. You're a traitor and murderer Theon.”

The scrawny man in front of her wrapped his arms around himself as he began to gasp for air. He slowly sank to his knees in front of her as big tears began to fall steadily down his cheeks, left unchecked. 

“No, no, no” Theon exclaimed, rocking back and forth. “Bran and Rickon are very much alive.” Before Sansa could interrupt him again, he trudged forward. “The night I told my men that Bran and Rickon were to die, they escaped through the secret passageway in the crypts with a Wildling woman named Osha that Robb captured and Hodor.” He took a couple of deep breaths. His tears flowing freely.

Sansa felt as if she had been hit full force with The Mountain's giant fist.

The full force of the truth he had heard, caused her to turn and sit hard the bed behind her. All she could do was shake her head. Her mind was riling. The only thing she could wrap her head around was that her little brothers were alive. That there was still hope! All was not lost.

“I-i..” Her mouth began to shut down. Sansa was reduced to stuttering like a simpleton. She took a deep breath and started again. “Is what you're saying the truth? Is it true?!” Sansa began pacing back and forth, wringing her hands, then she spun back towards Theon. “No, no, this is a lie! Ramsay put you up to this dirty trick. He's trying to win me over to his side with the hope that my little brothers are alive. But it won't work. He's not going to stop me from leaving.”

Theon began to shake his frantically. Sansa was slightly worried that he would give himself whiplash. “It's not a lie, Sansa. I'm telling you the truth. Your brothers were very much alive when the escaped from her with Osha and Hodor. I didn't want to lose face with my men so I found two farm boys, killed them and then burned them so no one would recognize them.” Theon spoke with tears streaming down his face. “I'm a murderer and a monster Sansa, but your brothers are very much alive.”

All Sansa could do was stare at the man standing in front of her. In a sheer moment of glee, she did the only thing that came to mind: she literary leaped into Theon's arms and hugged him.

When she pulled back, she kept her hands on Theon's shoulders and gave him a meaningful look.

“I can hear from the sound of the voice that what you say is true. And though two farm boys died in their stead, my brothers are very much alive because of your actions.” Sansa squeezed his shoulder. “Thank you, Theon.”

Theon tried to brush off her thanks. “P-please don't thank me, Sansa. I did try to kill your brothers.”

“But your actions, even if they were an intent to harm, kept them alive so they getaway,” Sansa said firmly. “Who knows what Ramsay would have done to them.”

Theon closed his eyes at that thought. He prayed to the Old Gods that he never founded out. For the time being, it was better and safer for everyone, that Ramsay didn't know about Bran and Rickon.

“Come with me!” Sansa asked out of the blue.

The words startled Theon out of his thoughts that he didn't know if he should panic or jump for joy. The idea that he would be free of Ramsay's torture, started to set his mind at ease. But his joy was broken by the mere simple fact that Roose Bolton's bastard son wouldn't let his prize go. And that prize wasn't Sansa, though she made a fine catch and go prize for anyone. The prize was him.

Ramsay took stock in the fact that he was the one who captured him and he delighted in the pure pleasure of the fact that he broke him or at least Theon made him think he did.

“I can't Sansa,” Theon replied as he started to shake and look around the room, paranoid. 

“You can Theon.” Sansa tried to persuade him. “Ramsay isn't going to stop once I'm gone. The torture will be worse.” She took a calming breath as she watched her former foster brother shake from head to toe. What was this mass of humanity that her Bastard husband turned him into.

What happened to the cocky boy that claimed he was a better swordsman than each of her brothers?!

“I-I can't S-Sansa!” Theon stuttered as he started to grab his head. “H-he's e-every w-where.”

Sansa sighed and shook her head and then straightened her back.

“Very well Theon.” She said as flipped up the hood of her cloak to cover her red hair. “You can stay here. I will not hold it against you. The sheer pain you have experienced from that monster's hands would make a sane man beg for the seven hells.”

With that, she grabbed her leather sack and candle from the bed, placed a gentle hand on his shoulder and then quietly made her way towards the door. She paused for a moment and turned back to Theon one last time with her hand on the door handle.

“The offer still stands if you change your mind.” Those were the last words Theon heard before he saw Sansa's back exiting the room.

 

 

* * *

 

 

As quietly as she could, Sansa crept her way down the hall, stopping every once in a while to hide in the shadows whenever she passed a guard. She made her way down the stone staircase and pushed open the door for the courtyard.

Once outside, she checked to make sure where the guard placements were, then as quietly as she could, she bolted across the courtyard towards the very tower that had been the start of all her troubles. Troubles brought on by the Lannister's. And two Lannister's who couldn't keep their hands off of each other.

Sansa slowly entered the Broken Tower and made her way upstairs.

Every step she took, she held her breath. Afraid that she would disturb some mystical presents in the tower itself. When she opened the door to the tower room, she stopped in the doorway and took it all in. This room was the starting point of her waking nightmare! A nightmare that was ongoing and didn't seem to have an end in sight.

She quickly made her way across the room towards the very window her brother Bran fell from or was pushed. Sansa chose to believe the latter. She opened the window. She stretched her tall body to take one last look outside before she ducked back inside.

She threw back her traveling cloak and she then swiftly reached into the pocket of her and pulled out a candle.

Sansa knew she only had moments before the guards realized she wasn't in her room. Her gaze drifted around the room quickly until she found an abandon holder.

She set the holder on the window sill as she opened the window. She prayed to the Old Gods and New that this would work.

With a sigh, as quickly as she came, she exited the tower and made her way towards the ramparts. Every so often, Sansa would glance over her shoulder to see if she was being followed. Even though there was a relief that wasn't the case, she didn't release the breath from her lungs for fear that any sudden movement would draw suspension to her.

She quickly made her way the steps and then with her long-legged stride, made it to an Archer opening and peered over the wall that led to her freedom. Just as she got the nerve to climb up, pregnancy and all, she heard what sounded like someone clearing their throat coming from behind her.

“Well, well, well!” The voice tutted. “What do we have here?”

Sansa sighed. She didn't even have to turn around. She knew that taunting voice anywhere. The voice came from the same woman who wanted to throw it her face that Ramsay warmed her bed every night since they got married. Or if you would like to call what she and Ramsay had a marriage.

The question had become, how did Myranda know where she would be?

As she turned around and faced the woman who took pleasure in threatening her every chance she got, Sansa wondered if she would cry out if she threw her dagger and hit Myranda square in the throat.

She shook her copper head and pulled her head out of those disastrous thoughts. If she followed through, she would be dead for sure and it wouldn't be by Ramsay's Whore. Ramsay himself would deliver the killing blow himself, her being pregnant or not wouldn't hold sway over him. But Sansa would have her freedom in death, not her physical freedom.

The only option that Sansa had was to see how this would play out. She would let Myranda have her jealousy and threats. She would let the vile woman spew her venom.

But when she had an opportunity, Sansa would either go the kill and Myranda would end up dead at her hand or she would jump. She would get her freedom either way. And felt courage with her brother's swords strapped to back. Sansa could feel it. She could sense it in the very air she breathed.

Her freedom was close at hand. She would finally be free!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for it being so long but with Covid-19 going around, I've been making sure my parents are ok. I hope everyone is staying safe!

**Author's Note:**

> This is my very first Stannis/Sansa story, so please comment and leave kudos


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